Unfinished Business
by AndItsOuttaHere
Summary: When Gary Hawkins ends up dead; who do you think is the prime suspect?
1. Art I

"Art?" Tim knocks on the doorframe and sticks his head in. "Some LPD guy is here to see you."

Art glances to where Tim is pointing at a buzz cut, stiff-necked, ape of a guy in a gray suit. Just what he needs at three o'clock on a Friday afternoon. Sighing, Art walks out into the squad room. "Chief Deputy Art Mullin, what can I do for you?"

"Nice to meet you Chief, I'm Detective Jim Carroll, LPD, Homicide. " He extends his hand and the two men shake. "I'm looking for a Deputy Givens?" He glances at his notes. "Raylan Givens?"

"Raylan's on medical leave." Art says. "He was shot in an altercation down south of here in Harlan a coupla weeks ago. He's still out recovering."

"So he's been out of commission for what, the last two weeks?" The detective makes a note.

"Yeah, why you askin'? Art says. "Something I should know?"

"Not yet," the detective says. "Hopefully, not at all. Thanks for your help." He turns to leave.

Instinct seasoned with years of experience makes Art speak up. "I'd like to know a little bit more, Detective. This is one of my deputies and if you want to talk to him, I don't appreciate being kept in the dark."

Looking around the busy Marshals' office, Det. Carroll motions to the door Art emerged from. "Can we talk in private?"

"Let's do that." Art shuts the door to the office and stands in front of the desk. "Have a seat."

"I'll stand, thanks."

"Suit yourself." This guy is an asshole, thinks Art. "So why are you lookin' for Raylan?"

"We found a body, a little over two weeks ago. There was some difficulty with identification due to circumstances and decomp, but it turns out to be a guy named Gary Hawkins. He's a realtor here in Lexington. Cause of death wasn't natural."

"I got that, you bein' homicide and all." Art says

"You know him?"

"Yeah, I know who he is."

"How do you know Mr. Hawkins?" The detective has his notebook out again, pen poised to write down whatever information Art has.

"His wife, well, his soon-to-be ex-wife, was involved in a shooting a month or so ago. He was in the office then."

"Deputy Marshal Givens was involved in that shooting as well, wasn't he?"

"Yep, he was." Art says. "He was with Mrs. Hawkins when the shooting occurred. They were the ones being shot at. Thanks to him, they got out of the situation alive."

"Deputy Givens is also 'involved' with the victim's wife, isn't he?" Carroll actually makes quotes in the air when he says 'involved', as if Art is too dense to grasp his meaning, or they're back in seventth grade. Jesus H. Christ.

"She's Raylan's ex-wife," Art keeps it simple. He's not telling this jack-off anything he doesn't already know.

"Okay. _Two _ex-husbands. That's interesting." Again with the note-taking.

Art crosses his arms over his chest. "Det. Carroll, I'm still not sure how you came to be here asking about Raylan. Are you accusing my deputy of something?"

"Not at all," the detective says, unconvincingly. "Just trying to connect some dots. I would like to talk to him, though. Haven't been able to get hold of the 'widow', either. You wouldn't have any idea where they might be, now, would you?"

"No, I don't. Raylan's been out of the hospital for a week or so, but I haven't talked to him for a few days. You're assuming they're together?" Art asks, thinking the detective is more than likely right, but not enjoying the insinuation that he's hiding some personal knowledge of Raylan's plans.

"Mrs. Hawkins has a nosy neighbor. Saw them put a suitcase in the trunk and take off a couple of days ago. Real friendly-like." He stares at Art. "She also mentioned that the house is under foreclosure. And yet…Mr. Hawkins was never reported missing."

"They're in the middle of a divorce." Art feels his face redden. "I would suspect they're avoiding each other like most divorced people do."

"Evidently she isn't avoiding her _other_ ex."

"I'm not privy to the details of Winona's private life. Raylan's either, for that matter." Not entirely true, but Art is pissed now. Raylan's a lot of things, but he's not a murderer, and neither is Winona. And this guy is a hard-nosed jerk. Art knows that much.

"Listen," Carroll says. "I know how I feel about my guys; and I'm sure you feel the same way about Deputy Givens, but if you know where they've gone, we really do need to contact Mrs. Hawkins; Winona, is it?"

"Yeah." Art thinks for a moment. "Tell you what. I'll see if I can get hold of Raylan on his cell and have him give you a call. I won't tell him why. You take it from there."

"Sounds fair."

"Give me a couple hours. He doesn't always answer the damn thing."

"I appreciate your cooperation." He hands Art his card and leaves.

As soon as he hears the elevator door shut Art calls out, "Tim!"

"Yeah, Art?"

"Find out everything you can on a Detective Carroll, LPD Homicide. I want to know who I'm dealing with."

"You got it, Boss."


	2. Jimbo I

Detective Jim "Jimbo" Carroll loosens his tie as soon as the elevator doors close. On first impression, he likes Art Mullin. He knows the feeling is not mutual, in fact, he's pretty sure he can add the man to a long list of those who consider him an a jerk; but he and the Deputy Chief have more in common than the Mullins may think. They would both go balls to the wall to protect one of their men or to catch a criminal.

He gets off the elevator on the first floor and glances around until he sees the sign for the Clerk of Courts. The place is practically deserted this late on a Friday afternoon, but the receptionist, a round-faced blonde who looks about forty, is still sitting at her desk. She's not pretty, not even close, but she's well dressed, made up, making an effort. He knows this kind of woman. This woman would not be at all fond of a woman like Winona Hawkins. He's betting on it.

He straightens to his full height and puts on his best smile. He's proud of the fact that thanks to daily workouts he still weighs the same as he did when he played linebacker for UK thirty-odd years ago. He's aged well, and he's always known how to talk to the ladies, whether they were co-eds, colleagues' wives, or the matrons at his mama's bridge parties.

"Miss?" He says, politely. Never call any woman under sixty 'ma'am' is one of his rules. "I was wonderin' if you could tell me where I could find Winona Hawkins?" He knows damn well the woman isn't here, but her whereabouts aren't what he's looking for. He's looking for gossip and innuendo.

"Winona took some time off," the woman says. "She'll be back on Tuesday, Monday bein' the holiday."

"That's too bad. I was hopin' to see her."

"I can give her a message."

"No, that's alright….maybe I'll go by the house." Jimbo is very careful not to identify himself as a cop, but not to lie, either. The insinuation that he knows Winona well enough to 'drop in' may get him more information, but making up details or pretending to be Uncle Frank from Louisville will only cause trouble later. He's learned that from experience.

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea." Even though there's no one around to overhear, the woman leans in and Jimbo barely contains the urge to yell 'Bingo!'

"She took off to take care of her ex-husband." She makes a disgusted face. "Well, seems like he's her boyfriend now. He's a U.S. Marshal. Got shot in that mess down in Harlan back a week or so."

"Raylan? She's back with Raylan Givens? Well I'll be damned." He leans one elbow on the counter and smiles, encouraging her to continue.

"Yeah, that's his name. They been messin' around for a good long time if you ask me. She tried to keep it quiet but it wasn't hard to figure out. Him down here all the time. Them always huddled up, talkin'. I even saw them sneak out of the 'Family Restroom' together. God only knows what they were doin' in there. Her still married, to that realtor, too." The woman scoffs. "People got no respect for the institution of marriage anymore."

"Yes, and that's a shame." Jimbo encourages. She's on a roll and he's ready for the ride.

"The husband and the Marshal almost came to blows right here not long ago."

"Really?"

"I couldn't hear what they were sayin' but they both looked mad enough to spit."

"They threaten each other?" He pretends to be shocked at the idea.

"Like I said, I didn't actually hear the conversation, but that Marshal, he had his hand on his gun the whole time they was talkin'. Made me nervous, all the things you hear about with people just goin' off and innocents getting caught in the crossfire."

"And you didn't catch anything they said?"

The woman thinks for a moment. "The Marshal called him an asshole." She pauses. "And the husband said something about stealin' her from him once and he could do it again."

Jimbo clucks his tongue and nods. "Men comin' to blows over ya. Every woman's dream, right?" He winks at her. "Thanks for your help. Maybe I'll catch Winona sometime next week." He feels her eyes on him as he leaves and puts a bit of swagger into his walk. Who knows, he may need to talk to her again and it's best to leave a good impression.

He waits until he gets outside to write down the gist of what the woman said. Two things stand out to him. First, there was an altercation between the Marshal and Gary Hawkins. If the clerk noticed it, others may have as well. The more important question in Jimbo's mind though, is Hawkins saying he'd stolen her once and could do it again. The detective makes up his mind to find out more about how the Marshal's marriage to Winona ended.

He pulls the clippings he made from the articles he printed off the internet out of his pocket. No doubt Givens has a reputation for taking matters into his own hands. There's some gangster he clipped in Miami, and several questionable incidents since he returned to Kentucky. Seems to Jimbo like the Marshal had plenty of reasons for wanting this Gary Hawkins dead, and more than likely the disposition to do it.

Jimbo's never met the guy, but he already knows he's not gonna like him.


	3. Raylan I

Raylan hangs up the phone with a sigh and walks out to the balcony in jeans and bare feet, pulling a t-shirt on over his head.

"I thought we weren't answering our phones this weekend." Winona says, shading her eyes with her hand and looking up at him. The blue-green of the Gulf of Mexico stretches before them, the edge blending into the sky. The sun will be setting soon, and it's calm and peaceful, like the mountains can be, but the waves surging up and back on the beach below suggest change and freedom in a way the mountains don't.

The long weekend away was spontaneous. A week in the hospital and another recuperating at the motel with Winona hovering made him claustrophobic. Art hadn't gotten an answer from Glynco, and Winona had already taken the time off. They weren't even sure where they were going when they pulled on to I-75, headed south. Nine hours later they'd ended up here, in Pensacola.

It's been a piece of heaven. The sun on their faces and the ocean breeze seem to wipe away the rest of the world. It's like a honeymoon without the wedding, Winona had joked the night before as they sat at the beachside restaurant feeding each other shrimp and listening to the zydeco band play _Walking to New Orleans_. They've spoken not one word about Glynco, him quitting the Marshals, selling ice cream, or whatever comes next. They've just enjoyed the time together.

Now, he's about to ruin it.

There's no way to soften it so he just says it out. "Winona, Gary's dead."

She sits up, holding the untied straps of her bikini top in one hand. "What? Gary's dead? Are you sure?"

"That was Art. He gave me a number for homicide in Lexington. I talked to a Detective Esposito. They found him a couple of weeks ago; but didn't identify him until the day before yesterday." Too late he realizes he might have left out that last grisly bit.

"Homicide?" Her eyes widen. "You're saying Gary was murdered?"

He lets her absorb it for a moment. Winona isn't a weeper. He can count on one hand the times he's seen her cry, one was when he left for Miami. One was two weeks ago at the hospital after he was shot. He braces himself for another.

But she's in serious, practical mode. No tears yet. "Raylan. What happened?" Winona shifts in the lounge chair, and studies his face. "You know something else. What is it? Tell me."

Raylan sits facing her, elbows on his knees. Truth time.

"I didn't want to have to tell you this shit. Dammit." He sighs. "The day after those guys shot at us, and you went with Rachel back to the house. I ditched Tim and did some investigating. I went down to Harlan and talked to Mags Bennett and some other people. I was thinking I was the target, but all my suspicions came up empty. That night after you went to bed, I caught a guy watching the house. Eventually, I found out Gary was behind it and I confronted him."

"Gary?" Winona starts to laugh, as if the idea is absurd, then sobers. "Gary tried to have you killed? My God, Raylan."

He doesn't speak at first. He wishes she never had to know this, but there will be questions and she needs to hear the whole truth from him. Finally he says "Not just me."

"What?" She says, confused. She shakes her head. "Me? I don't believe it. Why would Gary…?" She stares at him and sees he's serious. "Those men were after me?"

"Yeah, they were." Raylan nods. "I'm sure that my being collateral damage wouldn't have upset Gary or the people he hired at all, but I wasn't the main target."

"Why? Why would he want to hurt me? Even when we were at the attorney's he was still talking like he wanted me back." Her voice breaks. Maybe she's going to cry after all.

"Insurance money." He hangs his head, running one hand through his hair. "Winona, Gary was in way over his head with some really nasty people. You'd ended it, he knew we were together, so he wasn't exactly feeling the love."

Winona puts her face in her hands and rubs her eyes. When she looks up, Raylan sees the pieces fall together in her mind.

"He had to do something before the divorce was final." Winona murmurs. "Because after that he wouldn't get my life insurance."

"Yep."

"And if I was with _you_, people would assume you were the target and I was just in the wrong place with the wrong man and he could play the grieving husband." All the color leaves her face. "I think I'm going to be sick." She stands shakily and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Raylan stares out at the ocean breathing in the sea air. It's not the first time she's been sick this weekend, but this is different. He gives her a few minutes, then goes inside and slowly pushes the door open. She's sitting on the floor in the tiny bathroom, back against the tub, knees pulled into her chest. He eases down beside her and she lays her head on his shoulder. Tears dampen his shirt. He doesn't say anything; he just slips his arms around her and pulls her close.

If Gary weren't already dead, he'd kill him for making her feel this way.

"He tried to call it off." Raylan says, finally.

"When?" Her voice is small. They're still sitting on the floor, and she doesn't move her head from his shoulder.

"After I shot those two thugs. He called the guy he hired and tried to call it off, but he had no idea who he was dealing with. And he should have."

"Why? Did he know him?"

"Same guy we dealt with last year."

"That whole shopping-center thing?"

"Yep."

"Who is he, this 'guy'?" Winona asks. "Wait a minute. Is this the same creep who was in my house that day, pretending to be a 'Security Consultant'?"

"Yeah. Same guy. His name's Wynn Duffy and he's bad news. Real bad."

Winona lifts her head. "You think he's killed Gary."

Raylan nods. "I'd bet on it." He tells her the rest; how he took Gary to the meeting with Duffy and told him to disappear; trying to save Gary's hide. How he threatened Duffy if he didn't leave her alone. How he never wanted her to find out what Gary had done.

She looks at him for a moment, and he sees a flash of anger in her blue eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? He tried to _kill _me. Don't you think that's something I needed to know?"

"I didn't want you to have to know. I thought I could handle it."

"You would have had to tell me something, eventually. I think I might have noticed he was missing."

"I know. " He's been surprised she hadn't said something before now.

As if she's read his mind Winona says "I wondered why he hadn't called. I even tried to get him when the foreclosure notice came, but he never returned my calls. I just figured he didn't want to talk to me. I can't say I blamed him." A few more tears fall, and she wipes them away with the back of her hand.

He kisses the top of her head and stands up, holding out his hand to help her to her feet.

"You know," She says, brushing the hair from his face with her fingers. "I always worry about you getting into trouble, but looks like I've done a pretty good job of that, too."

Raylan raises an eyebrow. "Well then, I guess we do belong together." This earns him a flash of a smile that fades too quickly.

"We have to go back now, don't we?"

"Homicide wants to take statements from both of us. The detective I talked to said Tuesday would be fine, but if you want to head back tomorrow, I understand." He knows there will be arrangements to make, and she will likely have to be the one making them. He wonders if Gary had any other family.

She shakes her head. "I don't want to think about it. All I want to do right now is lie down and have you hold me."

"I think I can manage that."

Winona curls up on the bed and he slides in behind her, pulling her against him. She takes one of his hands and places it on her belly, the soft skin still warm from the sun. She covers it with her own. "What kind of world are we bringing this child into, Raylan?"

"Ours." He says, kissing her neck. "Yours and mine. Everything's going to be alright."


	4. Karen Esposito

"Tuesday!" Jimbo yells. He leans over her desk, practically in her face. "You honestly just told them 'Tuesday would be fine'?"

"Yes, I did." Karen Esposito says, not looking up. She takes a deep breath and counts to five, then continues calmly. It's taken some practice and control on her part, but she's not giving him the satidfaction of reacting to his intimidating physical presence. "Look, if they did it, and I don't think they did; they've had plenty of time to get their story straight. And who knows if they would even show up? If they didn't do it, well, then…" she takes a sip of her Diet Coke. "I didn't see that one or two days mattered much. If you're so concerned, have the Pensecola police pick them up. Oh, wait, you'd need evidence for that." She smiles up at him.

He ignores the barb. "You don't think either of them did it? You've already made up your mind?" He takes a step back.

Like you haven't, she thinks. But she says; "I'll go where the evidence takes me, but this doesn't feel like a crime-of-passion to me." Esposito shrugs her shoulders.

"What does it _feel_ like, then?" He sneers.

"In my opinion it has some markings of a professional job."

"You really think a hitman shot some two-bit Lexington realtor's face off and threw him in a ditch?"

"He was shot by a small caliber weapon at close range. There are no signs of a struggle, no defensive wounds on his hands. This wasn't an altercation."

"So the Marshal got the drop on Hawkins..." Carroll interrupts.

She plows on without acknowledging him. "In looking at Hawkins' financials, I think we have to consider the possibility that he may have been involved in some shady deals, which could lead to loan sharks and the like so, in a word, yes." Esposito holds her ground. "I did work organized crime for two years in Baltimore." She reminds him.

"This ain't Baltimore." Jimbo snaps. "Crime in Kentucky is more about personal vendettas and blood feuds than mob bosses and hitmen. Did you know that the Marshal's marriage to Mrs. Hawkins broke up because of her affair with the deceased?"

She hadn't known that, and it does give her a flash of doubt, but she doesn't show that to Jimbo. "I seem to recall they've been divorced awhile. If he was going to kill him over that, he could have done it a long time ago."

He stares at her for a moment, obviously rankled that he can't intimidate her, and stomps off, mumbling to himself. Karen Esposito sits down at her desk and sighs. She pushes her glasses up on her nose and runs one hand through her close cropped black hair. She loves her job, loves being a cop; but the promtion to homicide and working with Jimbo Carroll are taking their toll. She has to fight tooth and nail for her opinions to be heard. After six years on the force here, she was used to getting more respect from the guys in vice. This is like being back in the goddamn U. S. Army.

She clicks her computer mouse and stares at Gary Hawkins' bank statements on her screen. She glances at the deposit and withdrawl dates. Something doesn't add up.

"Hey Leo," She calls, turning in her chair to make eye contact. "Can I see that Hawkins' autopsy report again?"

"Sure." The tall black man hands her a folder and she slaps it down on the desk, flipping through the pages with one manicured hand. When she finds what she's looking for she heads for the copy machine. She tacks the paper on top of the bank statements she's printed out and stops at Leo's desk on her way out.

"How long has Doc Wilson been the county coroner?"

"Ever since I been here." Leo leans back in his chair. "Before that, even. He was coroner when they had that mine explosion back in '82…so…gosh…almost thirty years now."

"I'm going to drop by the morgue and see if Stuart Carter is in. He's the tech that signed off on the autopsy. Then I want to get to the bank before they close at noon. See if I can get a look at their security video."

"Don't let Jimbo get you down," Leo advises. "He's mostly bark. Although when he does bite, he hangs on for all he's worth. And he doesn't change his mind easily."

"I just don't like the ex-wife and her boyfriend the Marshal for this."

Leo gives her a nod. "Then prove it."

She nods back. "I'm going to."


	5. Art II

Chapter 5

Most Saturday nights find Art and Faylene right where they are tonight. Max and Rena Phipps have been their neighbors for over twenty years. Their kids grew up together, and often times either household was a mesh of Phipps and Mullins eating or sleeping or doing homework at the dining table. The kids are all grown and gone now, except for Trisha, the Phipps' youngest, who's due to graduate and head off to college in the fall.

Dinner is over and they're enjoying the effortless conversation that happens with long time friends. Despite the wonderful food and good company, Art's mind keeps wandering to yesterday's meeting with that LPD Detective. He has a bad feeling about this.

His call to Raylan yesterday was brief. Art didn't ask where he was, or even if Winona was with him. He told Raylan about Gary and gave him the number Carroll had left. He hoped Raylan would call back, but so far, he hasn't.

His cell phone buzzes and Art sets down his beer. He glances at the screen. It's Gutterson. "Sorry," Art says to Faylene and their friends. "I gotta take this. Be right back."

"What do you know?" Art asks his deputy.

"You asked me to find out about Jimbo Carroll. I called this guy I know at LPD. According to him, Carroll has a real reputation for making his case, whether he's right or not. He's been at LPD for years, and has a great conviction record, but my contact says he's been off his game lately. A case of his the D.A. prosecuted about a year ago got overturned on appeal due to 'misconduct of the investigation'. Carroll got a slap on the wrist."

"How hard a slap?"

"Not sure, but since then, the D.A. has declined to prosecute several of his recent arrests, due to lack of evidence and there's even been some talk about opening up some of his old cases."

"I knew on sight the guy was an asshole."

Tim goes on. "At this point in the convo, my contact goes totally off record." The Deputy hesitates. "He's heard that Jimbo was friends with Doyle Bennett from years back."

"Uh huh." Art mumbles.

"He tells me he's heard Jimbo has framed people before and that Raylan should watch his back."

"He has personal knowledge of this?" Art asks.

"From what he said, no, but he was pretty sure about it."

"Good to know." Art says. "Thanks, Tim."

"No problem, Chief."

Art goes to the fridge for another beer, not quite ready to return to the quiet conversation on the patio. He leans against the counter and takes a long swig.

After a few minutes of consideration, he picks up his cell and punches in Raylan's number.


	6. Raylan II

Raylan walks into the homicide division of the Lexington Police Dept. and glances around. On Art's suggestion, he and Winona set up separate appointments to make their statements. He's just about to ask one of the desk jockeys where to find Detective Carroll when a tall, beefy guy in what has to be a thousand-dollar suit approaches. He fits Art's description to a 'T'.

"Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens, cowboy hat and all." Jimbo grins toothily and extends his hand. "I'm Jimbo Carroll. Heard a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Raylan shakes the big man's hand, but doesn't offer pleasantries. He knows bullshit when he hears it. Art and Tim both advised him to watch his back with this guy. Art went so far as to suggest he might bring an attorney with him until he reminded Art that people who show up with lawyers always look guilty, whether they are or not.

If his silence bothers the other man, Jimbo doesn't show it. He gestures to a glassed off room behind the desk. "Let's talk in here. Coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"It's pretty good, " Jimbo insists. "Not typical station house coffee; more like low-budget Starbucks. We even have a cappuccino machine."

"I'm fine."

JImbo looks him up and down. "Hmmm." He says, pointing a finger. "You played baseball, I'd bet; maybe some basketball. Not football though. Am I right?"

"Chess club." Raylan says flatly. He sees a flash of anger under the detective's thin veneer of affability.

"Okay then." Jimbo shuts the door and sits down on the closest side of the table, forcing Raylan to walk around him. "Have a seat." He pulls a pen out of his pocket. "I just have a few questions."

Raylan sits across from him and puts his hat on the table. "Shoot."

"Ha. You got a sense of humor. That helps in our profession." Jimbo grins. "Glad you aren't nervous. This is really just a formality. Paperwork and all that. You know the routine. That's a really nice hat, by the way. Stetson, isn't it?"

"Can we skip the bullshit and get to your questions?" Jimbo opens his mouth to speak but Raylan holds up a hand. "No, wait. I think I can get this on my own. How did I know the deceased?" Raylan leans one elbow on the table. "He was married to my ex-wife."

"Winona Hawkins."

"That's right."

"And how long were they married?"

"I didn't keep track."

"I have an ex-wife and I must say, I find that hard to believe." He chuckles.

"Six years, give or take."

"And in that time, did you have any disagreements or altercations with Mr. Hawkins?"

"One or two, maybe."

"Over….what exactly?"

Raylan shrugs. "Nothing specific. Just didn't like the guy. Feeling was mutual."

"Usually, I don't like someone, I know the reason pretty well."

"We had a personality conflict."

" 'Cause he was fucking your ex-wife _before_ she was your ex-wife?"

Raylan tightens his jaw and keeps his voice level. Art warned him to hold his temper. For once, he's trying to follow his advice. "That was a long time ago."

"And she's back to fucking you again now, so all's well that end's well, eh?"

"Seems to me like you know a lot already. Not sure why you needed me to come in and answer questions." Raylan takes a deep breath. Under the table, he clenches and unclenches his fist and imagines it connecting with Jimbo's smug face. Several times.

"And it seems to me that you may have had a pretty good reason for wanting Gary Hawkins gone, one way or another."

Raylan leans in. "I saved his sorry ass twice. I coulda let the poor bastard hang himself, but I didn't."

"Why not?" Jimbo shrugs.

"Once because she asked me, and once because I didn't want to see her go through something like _this_."

Jimbo nods. "Ah, and they say chivalry is dead." He pauses, makes a note. "You say you saved him twice? From what, exactly?"

"Not what. Who."

"Alright, who?"

"Guy name of Wynn Duffy. Heard of him?"

"Heard the name. Don't know him."

"Dixie Mafia from over 'round Frankfort. Loan shark, mostly. But he kinda likes it when they don't pay. Gets off on dealing out the punishment. Keeps tarp and garbage bags handy."

Jimbo laughs. "Can't imagine a guy like that'd be sloppy enough to leave the body in a culvert to be discovered."

"And you think _I_ would. I believe I'm insulted." Raylan says. He leans back in the chair and stretches his legs out under the table. "Anything else you want to ask?"

"Yep. You happen to own a 20 gauge shotgun?"

"Nope."

"What about Mrs. Hawkins. She own one?"

"I wouldn't know."

"She know how to shoot?"

"Used to."

"She knows how to shoot but she doesn't own a gun?"

"Didn't say that. I said I wouldn't know if she had one."

"Only gun she's interested in firin' is yours, huh?" The asshole actually winks.

"Stop disrespecting her." Raylan says flatly. He's managed to keep his voice even, but his eyes darken and narrow in on the other man.

Jimbo stares at him for a moment. "I apologize." He says. Raylan doubts his sincerity, but nods.

"So, you were shot down in Harlan a few weeks back. Hurts like a bitch, don't it?"

"Not anymore."

"What was the date on that? You remember?"

"It was a Wednesday, the fourth, I think." He knows. Two days after Helen's funeral. The day Winona told him about the baby. The day he could have died, if she hadn't gone to Art. He's not likely to forget that day.

Jimbo pulls a newspaper clipping from the file. "Yessir. That's the date I have. How long were you in the hospital?"

"A week."

"Then you and Mrs. Hawkins took a little trip?"

"Not right away, no."

"But you did go…" Jimbo glances at his notes. "Down to Pensecola together?"

"Yes, we did."

"So you and Mrs. Hawkins are 'romantically involved'?"

"Yes." No reason to lie, or even hedge the truth. It'll be undeniable soon enough.

"For how long?"

Raylan pretends to think. "Gary moved out on her about four months ago. So after that." No reason to let Jimbo know it was _hours_ after that. None of his damn business.

"Why'd he leave her?"

"You'd have to ask her."

"Can't believe you never discussed it."

"Can't help what you believe."

"Did Mr. Hawkins know you and his wife had become reacquainted?"

"I imagine he did."

"Was that one of the disagreements the two of you had?"

This is going somewhere, but Raylan can't think of where it might be. Best to be careful. "Could be. I don't really recall."

"So you don't remember talking to Mr. Hawkins after you started sleeping with his wife?"

"I talked to him, yeah."

"When was that? After you and Mrs. Hawkins were shot at?"

Art had at least given him a heads up on Jimbo knowing about that. Now it was all about how much information to give the detective.

"Yeah. He was pretty angry. Accused me of putting her in danger, so we had words."

"What words, exactly?"

"I called him an asshole."

Jimbo laughs. "I'm sure the feeling was mutual."

"I'd say so."

"So, Mr. Hawkins was just going to roll over and play dead, so to speak; let you take her back? He never tried to save his marriage?"

"I don't know." Raylan says. "I only know that the divorce was in the works, so he knew it was over."

"He never threatened to take her away again, like he did before?"

"Mighta said that once." Raylan acknowledges.

"Never got the chance though, did he? Didn't live long enough." Jimbo says. "I think we're done here." He closes his notebook. "For now, anyway." He starts to stand.

Raylan continues to sit.

Jimbo sits back down. "Something else you wanted to say?"

"Nope." Raylan picks up his hat from the table and puts it on. "Just wanted to see if you'd sit back down. You have a nice day, now." He feels the detective's eyes on his back all the way out the door.


	7. Karen II

Karen Esposito pegs Winona Hawkins the minute she walks into the squad room. She knows the type, a professional and polished southern woman. Unlike women in the Northeast, who assume they have to dress like men to be respected, southern women manage hold onto their femininity. Her hair is up in some kind of twist and she's impeccably dressed, black skirt, gray striped blouse, heels. She's thin, but not as tall as she seems at first. Mrs. Hawkins is the kind of woman other women notice and often take an instant dislike to. She appears cool and aloof, but Karen knows from experience that appearances like that can be very deceiving. She always likes to make her own assessments of people after getting to know them.

"Mrs. Hawkins?"

The woman seems flustered for a moment, but then answers. "Yes." She says, shaking Esposito's offered hand.

"Thanks for coming. I'm Karen Esposito. Why don't we sit down over here?" Karen leads the way to her desk. It's situated in a fairly private corner, and she prefers to do interviews like this one casually whenever possible.

"Coffee, or some water?"

"Water would be good, yes, thank you." Winona smooths her hair back with a hand, but it falls back into her face immediately. Exasperated, she takes the clip out and shakes her head, sticking one long lock behind an ear. "It never stays up." She complains.

Karen gestures to her own short style. "There's a reason I wear my hair this way." She says. "I got tired of the fuss." She reaches into the small fridge behind her desk and snags a Diet Coke for herself and the bottled water.

As Winona opens the water, Karen takes a moment for a second impression. Mrs. Hawkins isn't as calm and collected as she looks. There are dark circles under the woman's eyes, and beneath the sheen of a slight tan, she's pale. Her hand shakes a bit as she lifts the bottle to her lips, and she swallows carefully.

"If you aren't feeling well, we can do this another time." The detective says.

"No, I'm fine. Really. Just tired."

"I would imagine it's been a stressful few days." Karen nods. "I'm sorry about your husband."

"We were getting a divorce." She says flatly.

"I know, but that doesn't mean this isn't difficult."

Winona takes another sip of water.

"Mrs. Hawkins, when was the last time you saw your husband?"

"Um…I guess it was about three weeks ago. We…." she stops. "Detective Esposito, I'm not particularly proud of my situation or the fact that I was about to be divorced for the second time, but the fact is, my first husband and I were shot at by some thugs. After that, they sent me back to my house with protection and Gary went along. That's the last time I saw him."

"Your first husband; that would be Deputy Marshal Givens?"

"Raylan Givens, yes."

"Had you talked to Mr. Hawkins since that night?"

"No."

"How did he seem to you; the last time you saw him?"

"Fine, I guess. He said something funny about not knowing why he was doing the stuff he was doing…like it was someone else. I told him I could relate to that."

"What do you think he meant?"

"He was being a jerk about some things in the divorce. Nit-picky. Not like him." She screws and unscrews the cap on the water bottle. "I suppose that's what he was talking about."

"And you could relate because…?"

"Have you ever done something totally against who you thought you were?"

"I think everyone has, at some time or another. I've had my moments."

"Well, in the last, oh six months, I've had a few of those, so I could understand what Gary was saying."

Karen imagines the woman is talking about her affair with her ex-husband, but gets the feeling there might be more to it than that. "I have to ask some personal questions. You understand?"

"Yes."

"What's the nature of your relationship with your first husband, Marshal Givens?"

"Raylan and I…." She pauses, takes another drink. "We're together." She shrugs. "I thought I could walk away from him." She gives a half-smile. "Turns out, I was wrong."

"How long have you been back together?"

"Three, maybe four months."

"And your husband knew? "

"Yes, but…." she sips again and turns her head to look around. "Is there a restroom I could use?"

"Sure, right over here." Karen points.

"Excuse me." Winona says. She rises and walks quickly toward the door.

She waits for her to return but when ten minutes pass, Karen decides to check on the woman. Winona is standing at the sink, splashing water on her face. She lays one hand on her stomach and grimaces as she reaches for a paper towel.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Karen asks.

"I'm fine, now, really." She smiles, but she's pale and shaky and there's no energy behind it. She just looks exhausted.

A suspicion dawns in the detective's mind. On instinct, she asks; "Ms. Hawkins are you pregnant?"

Winona's eyes give her away. She drops her gaze, then stares at her own reflection in the mirror as if she's asking that woman for advice. Whether she's thinking about denying it, Karen can't tell, but she knows in that instant that she's right.

"Let's go sit down, okay? I've got some crackers in my desk that might help. Keeping something in my stomach always helped me."

"You have kids?"

"A boy. He's nine."

Back at the desk, Winona accepts the crackers and eats a few. Karen hands her a photo in a red plastic frame that reads Caldwell Elementary School. A dark-haired boy with bangs almost covering his eyes smiles from the photo.

"That's Sam." Karen says. "Don't ask about the hair." She rolls her eyes.

Winona sips some water. "He looks like you."

"Yeah, but he acts like his father." She laughs. "Is this your first?"

"Yes." Winona nods.

"How far along are you?"

"Ten weeks, they tell me."

"You'll start feeling better soon. I take it it's not your husband's."

"Which one?" Winona says, ruefully. "Sorry. No, it's Raylan's baby."

"How's he feel about that?"

"He's thrilled."

"You don't sound so thrilled."

"Oh, I am, really. I love him and we…" She tears up, but blinks them away before they can fall. "This just isn't quite how I imagined it would be."

Esposito smiles. "Okay. I get that. Did Mr. Hawkins know about the pregnancy?"

"No."

"So, back to where we were….your husband did know about you and Marshal Givens?"

"Yes."

"How did he react? Did he try to talk you out of it, woo you back?"

"He tried for awhile."

"What happened when it didn't work?"

Karen watches several emotions cross the younger woman's face. Regret, anger, and something close to pity.

"He was sad, mostly, I think he felt like his whole life just….got away from him. Gary was a yeller, he got mad quick and got over it quicker, but he never yelled about this, well, not after…" She stops. "I think he knew, on some level, almost from the day Raylan came back to town. Maybe he knew before I did. Maybe that's why he left."

"_He _left _you_? Before or after the affair started?"

"Before. He moved out. He was living over at the Athletic Club. Raylan and I have always gotten along, for the most part, and we'd helped each other out with some things. Gary got upset and said he couldn't stay around and watch Raylan 'worm his way in' again. But he and I were fighting a lot."

"About what?"

"Money, mostly, but other things, too."

"Did your husband and Raylan ever have words?"

"If you mean did they fight, no, not really. They didn't like each other, but they weren't at each other's throats." She tilts her head, thinking. "In fact, the last time I saw Gary, he shook Raylan's hand and apologized for jumping all over him the day before, after the shooting."

"So usually they were civil."

"For the most part, yes."

"Ms. Hawkins, how familiar are you with your husband's finances?"

Winona shakes her head. "Not at all, really. We had separate accounts. I know that he had been going through a dry spell, like every other realtor these days. He wasn't big on sharing the details. That was one of the things we fought about." She squeezes the water bottle and it makes a popping sound. "We were over-extended on the house."

"It's being foreclosed on, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Were you still living there?"

"No."

"Mr. Hawkins stayed there?"

"On and off, I think. He showed it quite a bit, so it was better if no one was there."

"Your husband took out a second mortgage not long ago. You know what that was about?"

"Not really. Just that he bought a horse. Or part of a horse."

"A race horse?"

"No, an Arabian, I think. I'm not sure about the details."

Do you know who his partner is?"

"No."

"Do you own a gun, Ms. Hawkins?"

"There are a couple of rifles at the house. A 22, I think, and an old hunting rifle that belonged to Gary's daddy."

Karen glances at her notes. "You said that he was being nit-picky about the divorce. Do you mind telling me what the issues were?"

Winona looks down, then meets the detective's eyes. Karen can tell she's making a judgement call. She's been very forthcoming, and answered all of the questions, but this one's made her flinch.

Finally she sighs and says, "Gary wanted my insurance. He wanted me to keep him as the beneficiary."

Karen nods. "That is unusual. Especially with no children involved."

"That's what my attorney said. We refused. Gary got real upset. More than I thought he should be." She stops. "That day, Raylan had given me a ride to the lawyer's and there was a car following us. That night, the same car rammed his on our way home, and two guys started shooting at us."

Karen stares at her for a moment while she puts two and two together. "Your husband wanted your insurance money to help clear up his financial mess. So he had someone come after you."

Winona says nothing.

"I'm sure that Marshal Givens suggested you keep those details to yourself, as they go to motive, yours, or his, and no one really needs to know. Am I right?"

Again, the younger woman says nothing, but she doesn't shirk from the detective's gaze. Karen pushes her chair back from the desk and crosses her legs.

"Okay. You've given me something, so I'm going to do the same. I don't believe for one minute you or the Marshal are behind this. It doesn't feel right to me, but it does to my boss. He's tenacious, inscrutable, and he's going to come after Marshal Givens, I guarantee it. Do you have a name? Anything that might help me run this down?"

Esposito watches the other woman's face. Winona is weighing whether or not to trust her. But she's done her homework and she has one more card to play. "Listen, " Karen says. "I'm not going to give any of this to Carroll. I'll investigate on my own time if I have to. I'm not afraid to buck my boss or bend the rules to do what's right. Sound like anyone you know?"

Winona takes a deep breath. "Wynn Duffy." She says. "I don't know much about him except that he calls himself a 'security consultant'. Raylan thinks he's the one who killed Gary."


	8. Raylan III

Raylan's sitting in one of the motel's porch chairs, beer in hand, long legs stretched out in front of him when Winona pulls in. She sits in the car for a moment, head down, then gets out and walks toward the porch.

"Wanna beer?" Raylan asks, before thinking.

Winona rolls her eyes. "I wish. I could use one after the day I've had."

He reaches out and snags her hand as she passes, linking his fingers through hers. "How did it go with your interview?" They had touched base, briefly on the phone, after his, but haven't talked since.

"Fine." Winona says. She doesn't offer details, or look him in the eye, and he feels bereft, somehow. "I'm going to change." She pulls away, one hand on the door. "Are you hungry? Do you want to go get something to eat?"

"Sure." He suppresses the urge to follow her inside and waits on the porch for her to get ready. He wonders if her silence is about mourning Gary. She was married to him for six years, after all. Or maybe she's still shook up over finding out the husband she thought was safe tried to have her killed. That seems more likely.

At the restaurant, Winona picks at her dinner, offering little in the way of conversation. He can tell she's tired to the bone, but there's something else. She keeps biting her lip like she's holding back something she wants to say.

Finally after waiting the entire meal for her to come out with it, he can't stand it. "Did I do something wrong?" He asks.

"No."

"Is it Gary? Did you get ahold of his brother?"

"I left a message for him to call me." She picks at a piece of steak with her fork.

"I guess I'm not very hungry." She pushes the plate away, and the overeager waitress swoops in to clear the table and ask if they want dessert.

"No, thanks." Raylan says. "Just the check."

He sits back in the booth and sighs. "So this is how _you_ feel when I don't 'share' my day." He says after a few moments.

That gets him a smile. "Sorry." The smile fades, and she looks even more worried.

"What is it?" He asks, wondering at this sudden role reversal. He's not used to having to pull things out of her. She usually dumps more on him than he can handle at one time, leaving him at a loss for words and frustrating her. Tonight he's the frustrated one.

She's silent for a bit longer, picking at the tablecloth with a manicured hand "I think I may have said too much today, with Detective Esposito."

This isn't what he expected. "Like what?"

She looks down at the table before answering. "I might have mentioned Gary hiring Wynn Duffy and the whole mess with those thugs."

"You _might_ have?"

Winona shrugs. "Okay, I _told_ her. I know what you said, but I went with my gut. I trust her. She's not going to tell that jerk Carroll about it. She even warned me that he was coming after you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's….well, she's a lot like you, I guess. She has her own ideas about what's right. She's not going to just do what she's supposed to do."

"So why did you say you said 'too much'?"

"Because I thought you'd be angry."

"I'm not angry. I just hope they're not doing some orchestrated good-cop/bad cop routine with us."

Winona buries her face in her hands. "I should have thought of that. Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut?"

Raylan leans over and pulls her hands away from her face, taking them both in his. "Hey, you said you trusted her. We'll just have to hope you're right."

"And what's my track record on that lately? " Winona asks miserably. "I trusted Gary and look what happened."


	9. Jimbo II

Chapter 9

Jimbo Carroll shifts his weight on the bar stool and looks at the door for the third time in as many minutes. Not much makes him nervous, but the guy he's meetin' here…he makes his palms sweat. He loosens his tie and slips the heavy ring from his finger, tapping it on the bar.

The bartender looks up. "Another?"

"Yeah, hit me again." Jimbo says. The bartender pours the shot, and Jimbo downs it. He stares at the television above the bar. The Reds are down 7-1 to the Mets. The fucking Mets for Christ's sake. Shit. He lays the ring in his palm and turns it over. SEC Championship 1976. God. Best time of his life and he was just a kid. What the hell happened?

"Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo." A slender man in a tan double-breasted suit and a bright peach tie slides onto the barstool beside him. He smells of strong cologne and diesel fuel. "How the hell are ya?"

"Hello, Wynn." Jimbo says. He notes the dark-suited hulk taking a spot between the bar and the door. Wynn always travels with muscle. This one looks like he might actually have a brain to go with the brawn.

The smaller man gestures at the screen. "You got money on the game?"

"Always."

"Sorry 'bout your luck."

"Yeah, well."

"Bartender," Wynn calls. "Another for my friend and one for me."

Jimbo thanks him and pounds his third shot of the night. "Reason I called is your name came up today."

"In what capacity?"

"You know a guy name of Raylan Givens? U.S. Marshal?"

Wynn's usually impassive face turns livid. "Know him? He's somethin' out of a fuckin' nightmare. Stickin' his nose in where it doesn't belong. Threatnin' me. Hell, I lost 17 inches of intestine 'cause of him." He swigs his whiskey. "Indirectly."

Jimbo doesn't ask. "Name Gary Hawkins mean anything to you?"

"Not anymore." Wynn gives a glance at the suit in the corner.

"Found the body couple of weeks ago. I think I got a case for the Marshal doin' him. Maybe get rid of that problem for you. You got anything might help that case along?"

Wynn nods slowly. "Think I might be able to help you out." He lays a fifty on the bar and stands. "I'll call you tomorrow. Same number?"

"Yeah," Jimbo says. "Same number."

"Bartender?" Wynn points to the fifty. "Another drink for my friend, and call him a cab, wouldja?" He slaps Jimbo on the back. "Can't have my favorite LPD detective getting arrested for DUI, now, can we?"

He grabs Jimbo between the neck and shoulder in a vulcan grip. The man is stronger than his size would indicate. His voice is low and just menacing enough to make Jimbo's gut twist. "Don't screw this one up, Jimbo. I want the Marshal gone. If you can shoot him resisting arrest, all the better, but I'll take prison. I'm a reasonable man."

He points to the television. "Huh. Reds came back. Must've had a helluva inning. Almost pulled it out. 7-6 Mets. That hurts, don't it?"

Duffy motions to the hulk in the corner and walks out the door.

Jimbo's hand shakes as he picks up the glass.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Raylan clicks the remote looking for another game. He's not a Reds' fan, but they are the 'home' team here in Lexington, unless you count the Lexington Legends, and he's never been much for minor league. He settles on the late game from the west, Indians vs. Diamondbacks and tosses the controller on the nightstand.

"Did they win?" Winona steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and running her fingers through her damp hair.

"Nope. Mets 7-6." He stretches, kicks his boots off onto the floor, and watches her.

"Well that sucks, I guess." She smiles at him.

"Yeah, Art's pissed, I'm sure." Raylan says. "They've got good bats, but lousy pitching lately. Rolen hit a triple in the sixth, but Arroyo's pitches couldn't hit the broad side of a barn tonight and when they brought in Bray instead of Cordero…."

"Raylan?"

He looks up.

"Shut up." She says, letting the towel fall to the floor.

Sometimes it's best just to do what the woman asks.


	10. Art III

Chapter 10

Wednesday morning dawns warm and rainy. Gray skies hang heavy over Lexington and the air is thick and stagnant. The weather and the Reds' fourth loss in a row, have Art in a foul mood. Plus they're short-handed around here with Raylan still out. If the transfer to Glynco comes through, Art'll need to replace him sooner, rather than later. Thinking of the possibility of Raylan leaving doesn't improve his disposition any.

"Art, a word?" Tim asks from the doorway..

"Sure."

"I happened to be out last night at Hatfield's over in Frankfort. You know, that old steakhouse right off the highway?"

"Doin' your drinkin' out of town now?" Art asks.

"Yeah, well." Tim seems chagrined but recovers quickly. Still, Art takes note of his reaction.

Tim goes on. "Saw something interesting." He pulls out his cellphone and scrolls through some pictures. When he finds what he wants, he hands the phone to Art.

"Recognize anyone?"

"That Detective Carroll?" The one pesterin' Raylan?" Art says. "Who's he with?"

"Not sure. Couldn't catch his face. Came in with muscle though. Got that one." He scrolls to another shot.

"Never seen him."

"Me either, so I e-mailed this to myself, ran it through facial recognition in the database."

"My, aren't you the technical wizard."

"The picture isn't good enough for 100% i.d. but there's a 79.2% chance it's this guy." Tim pulls a sheet of paper from a file folder.

"Dervon Lewis." Art reads. "Dervon? Really? Where do they come up with these names?" He reads further. "Six assaults, one on a LEO, eight counts of intimidation, and a rape charge pled down to gross sexual imposition. This guy's trouble."

"Yep." Tim grins. "Lucky for us, he has an outstanding warrant from Franklin County in Ohio for the officer assault, and they would be mighty pleased to have him back. Officer looks to be permanently incapacitated."

"Track him down and pick him up." Art says, handing the file back. "Take Rachel with you. No solos on this idiot."

"Got it."

88888888888888

Sitting down at the desk Art clicks the mouse and opens his e-mail. The first message is from Faylene, could he please pick up milk on the way home, they're out. The next message is from Roger Kurtz at Glynco. Art reads it. Well, damn. Raylan isn't going to be happy. Might as well get this over with. He picks up the phone.

Twenty minutes later he's sitting in Shelby's a block from the Courthouse, nursing a cup of coffee and contemplating the menu. Raylan slides into the booth across from him and puts his hat on the seat.

"What's up?"

"Nice to see you, too." Art says. "Let's order, then we can 'chat'." He motions to the waitress. "How'd the interview go yesterday?"

"Guy's an asshole, like you said." Raylan says. "Sorry." He smiles at the waitress.

"If that's the worst I hear all day, it'll be a good one." She smiles back and takes their orders without writing anything down; bacon, eggs, and homefries all around.

"So he was a hard-ass with you?" Art says.

"Yep." Raylan adds cream and sugar to his coffee and stirs.

"You kept a lid on your temper, I hope."

"If I hadn't you'd be readin' about it in the paper."

" S'pect I would, at that." Art makes the decision not to share Tim's information from the night before. They don't really know anything yet, and the last thing he needs is Raylan out investigating on his own.

"You didn't call me here to ask me about the interview." Raylan says. "What's goin' on?"

Art sighs. "I heard back from Roger down at Glynco."

"Doesn't sound like good news."

"They've got nothin' right now. Feds are cuttin' back, so there's no open positions at the moment."

Raylan stares at his cup, his brow furrowed.

"You really think this is gonna be a deal breaker for Winona? Is that what's got you worried?"

"I kinda promised her, Art."

"Well, it's just not that easy. She's gonna understand that." Art takes a sip of his coffee. "Roger did say that Hargrove is set to retire in December. That'd leave an instructor's position open, if the suits let him fill it. It ain't you he's turning down. He actually _likes_ you. His hands are tied."

"I get it." Raylan nods, but he doesn't look any happier.

"Say, you remember that time the three of us went out with the graduates on that fishing charter?"

Raylan nods. "Hard to forget."

Art laughs. "Got sunburned beyond belief and didn't catch a damn thing. Then we hit that bar at Tybee and got shitfaced on those fruity tourist drinks and Faylene and Winona had to come pick us up; mad enough to spit, the both of 'em."

"I still can't stand the smell of rum." Raylan admits. Art chuckles.

"How'd that start anyway?" Art tries to remember.

"The guys ordered 'em for us as a joke. Little umbrellas and everything." Raylan reminds him. " 'Bout fell off their stools laughing. Thought they were hilarious. You liked 'em, though. Kept ordering rounds. Roger and I drank 'em just to be polite." He grins.

"Sure ya did." Art shakes his head. "We had some good times there."

"Yeah we did." Raylan agrees.

Their breakfasts arrive and they eat in silence for a few minutes.

"Tell Winona what I told you." Art suggests. "It's six months 'til December. Things might work out. If not, by that time, maybe she'll be preoccupied enough with the baby and all not to push the issue."

"She wants me out of the field, Art."

"That what you want?" Art watches his friend's face. It's obvious he's conflicted, but he's made a decision, for now, at least.

"I want _her_." He says after a moment. "And this baby. It's a second chance. Those don't come around that often."

"Yeah, well, I _know_ that." Art says. The waitress comes to collect their plates and leaves the check on the table.

"I got this." Art says, pulling out his wallet. "You know; maybe if she saw you could do your job without stickin' your neck out so far it'd get chopped off, she'd feel better about it. I'm just sayin'." Maybe I'd feel better, too, he thinks.

"Thanks, Art. For breakfast and everything." Raylan says. He throws a couple of dollars down for a tip, puts his hat on, and leaves.

Art pays the check and takes his cell phone out. When Faylene answers, he replays his conversation with Raylan.

"So, I'm guessing you want me to give Winona a call and take her to lunch and tell her bein' married to a Marshal ain't all bad?" He can hear a smile in his wife's voice.

"You did say you'd been meaning to congratulate her on the baby."

"Well, turns out you do listen to me sometimes." She laughs. "I'll call her, but let's give Raylan a chance to talk to her first."

"Thanks, Hon."

"And Art?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget the milk."


	11. Winona I

Chapter 11

"Six months?" Winona says. She's sitting on the bed, feet curled under her eating ice cream from the carton with a plastic spoon. Ice cream for dinner is an old habit from their marriage that they've revived recently. It has to be premium, eaten straight from the carton, and shared. Tonight it's Chaney's butter pecan, . She passes it back to Raylan.

"Yeah, Art says there's an instructor retiring in December. Roger knows me. We worked together before. I'm first on the list, but there's nothin' before then." He takes a bite and holds it out to her.

She swirls the spoon around again and licks the ice cream off, before handing it back. "You can have the rest."

She slides off the bed and paces back and forth in the small room, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans. "I was just hoping we'd be settled before…" She pauses and lifts her shirt to show him the undone snap. "I can't button my jeans now. In six months…" She frowns as she does the calculating. "I'll be as big as a house."

He grins at her from the bed. "You'll still be beautiful."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. It's not a great time to be moving anywhere. But maybe that's what you're counting on." Too late she realizes how bitchy she sounds.

"Winona…"

"I know…there's nothing you can do about it. I get it. I do." Crap. Now she's close to tears, which she seems to be about a hundred times a day lately. It's completely normal, according to the baby book, but unfamiliar territory to her.

He sets the carton on the bed and goes to her. "Hey. I told you; I'll quit. We'll go somewhere…start over. Really, if that's what you want."

She puts her arms around him and lays her head against his chest. "Can we just get out of here?"

Raylan tenses, but he tightens his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. "I'll tell Art tomorrow."

She laughs up at him. "No, no, Raylan…I mean can we get out of _here_." She sweeps one arm out, encompassing the tiny motel room. "I don't think I can stand living in this place another week, let alone six more months."

"If we move, we lose the maid service." He says, raising an eyebrow.

"That's okay. I didn't have a maid before and it was a big house."

"You want to keep the house?" Raylan asks. "We could probably stop the foreclosure if I put some money in..."

She shakes her head. "No. I don't want to live in that house anymore. I want something that's just ours."

"Alright, then." He says. "We'll start lookin' around."

"Thank you." She smiles up at him.

He tips her chin up to kiss her and as the kiss goes on she arches into him, feeling how much he wants her; wanting him back. They don't even bother moving the ice cream carton.


	12. Raylan IV

Chapter 12

"Whatch readin'?" Tim leans over his shoulder. "Real Estate ads? You finally movin' out of that flea bag mo-tel?"

"Trying, anyway." Raylan sighs and tosses the paper on the desk. They'd looked at a few apartments over the weekend, but they'd all seemed bleak and almost as claustrophobic as the motel. Besides which, most wanted a year's lease, with penalties for leaving early.

"I know a house for rent." Tim says. "Wanna take a look?"

It's his first day back and Art has him chained to the desk going over reports and reviewing new regulations. Getting out of the office for any reason sounds like a plan. "Sure." Raylan grabs his hat from the top of the filing cabinet and follows Tim out the door.

The radio blasts out Black Sabbath as soon as Tim keys the ignition. "Sorry." He mumbles. "You can change the station."

"I'd settle for fewer decibels."

Tim fiddles with the volume and turns out of the courthouse lot. Three or four blocks down he turns left and suddenly downtown gives way to a narrow tree-lined street. The houses are older, some weather-beaten and needing paint, but others well-kept. Halfway up the block Tim pulls up in front of a low-slung white bungalow.

"How'd you hear about this?"

"It's mine."

"Yours? Then why you rentin' it out?"

"I got two others. I like to fix 'em up. Sell 'em or rent 'em. Right now, rentin' is easier."

Raylan stares at the man. "Never figured you for the handy-man type."

"Not everyone's as predictable as you." Tim says. "You want to see inside?"

They take a quick tour and Raylan has to admit he's impressed. "You do all of it yourself?"

"Yep. Took out two walls;" He points "Here, and here to make this room bigger, refinished the floors, painted, and completely redid the kitchen. Not the bathroom though. It was okay. God, I hate bathrooms."

"How long'd it take you?"

Tim thinks. "Bought it eight months ago. Finished last week."

"Lot of work."

"I don't sleep much."

Raylan supposes there's a story there, but this isn't the time or place so he lets it drop.

Tim takes the key off a thick ring and hands it to him. "Bring Winona over. Have her take a look. You want it, we'll set up something. Month by month if that's what you're looking for. No sweat that way if you decide to leave."

"You know about that?"

"Glynco?" Tim nods. "Yep. Word travels."

Raylan pockets the key. "It's nice. I'll show it to her, let you know."

"Okay." Tim's cell buzzes and he answers. "Gutterson. Yeah. I'll be right there."

"Rachel's got a lead on a guy we're lookin' for. I'm dropping you off and meetin' her and no you ain't ridin' along because I like my job."

"You go on. It's close enough to walk back from here. Check out the neighborhood."

"You sure?"

"Don't keep Rachel waitin'." Raylan says. "And thanks."

"No problem." Tim gets in the car and guns the engine. Raylan can hear the radio blast before he pulls away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Back in the courthouse parking lot, Jimbo pulls out his cell-phone and punches in a too-familiar number. "It's me. You got it?"

"Everyone's out of there?" Wynn asks.

"Yeah. She's at work and the Marshal just left with some other guy. You should be free and clear."

"Alright. My guy is here with the package. I'll call you when it's done. When you gonna go for him?"

"Not me." Jimbo says. "That'd be stupid. I'll send Ralston or Esposito."

"I don't trust the broad from what you've told me."

"Ralston then. He's honest, but he won't ignore the evidence no matter how much Givens protests."

"Good. You make this stick. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, it'll stick." Jimbo assures him. "And if it don't, maybe he'll try to escape. Might have to shoot him."

There's a bark of laughter from the other end. "That'd be too bad."

"Yessir, a real tragedy." Carroll agrees.


	13. Raylan and Art

Chapter 13

The pounding jolts Raylan from a sound sleep, the first he's had in awhile. Winona pulls the covers over her head and mumbles "Tell them to go away."

"Open up, police!" A gruff voice shouts. "We have a search warrant for these premises!"

"What the hell?" Raylan scoots out of bed and pulls on the jeans lying on the floor. Winona is sitting up, now, eyes wide, shrugging into his shirt, which must have landed on the other side of the bed at some point in the evening's activities.

"What's going on?" She asks.

"I don't know."

He picks up the gun from the dresser, holding it low and behind him. Maybe it's the police, maybe not. Can't be too careful. He opens the door, leaving the chain latched.

"Raylan Givens?" A tall black man in an LPD slicker asks.

"Yeah."

"Leo Ralston, Lexington Police. Sorry, Marshal but we have a search warrant for this motel room." He slides a paper through the space.

Raylan glances at it. It's legit. "Guess you're coming in then." Sticking the gun in the waist of his jeans and pulling a shirt on over it, he unlatches the door.

The black detective and two other cops Raylan doesn't know enter the room. He wonders where Jimbo Carroll is. It's hard to imagine he'd want to miss this.

"You can wait outside." Ralston says, glancing around the small room. "This shouldn't take long."

Raylan gives him a stare. "No offense, but if you don't mind we'll stay right here." He puts an arm around Winona's shoulders and they stand together in the corner as the men go through drawers and the closet, tossing things left and right.

One goes into the bathroom and comes out again, shaking his head.

They take the covers and pillows off the bed and pull the mattress off the box springs onto the floor. Nothing. One cop lifts the box-springs up to look underneath. "Leo!" He calls. "Look at this."

Winona gives him a worried glance. Raylan watches as Ralston walks over. He looks at the bed, then at Raylan and calls to one of his men who takes out a camera and photographs something on the underside of the box- spring. Raylan motions to Winona to stay put, and steps forward.

"Stand back, please, Marshal." Detective Ralston holds up a warning hand.

There's a ripping sound and one officer holds up a shotgun with several strips of duct tape hanging on it. Raylan gathers it had been strapped to the bottom of the box spring. He barely resists the urge to tell them it isn't his gun; that he's never seen it before. It's true, of course, but he's been on the other side of that statement and it always sounds more than a tad bit desperate.

"Where'd that come from?" Winona hisses in his ear.

"I have no idea." He says. "But I'm gonna find out."

"Raylan Givens," Ralston walks over. "I'm real sorry about this, but you're under arrest for the murder of Gary Hawkins. And I'm gonna need that gun you've got under your shirt." Raylan hands it over, and the detective continues with the usual recitation of Raylan's rights and pulls out his handcuffs.

"Give us a minute?" Raylan asks the detective. Ralston hesitates, but nods, and ushers the other officers out of the room. He stands in the doorway.

Raylan wraps Winona in an embrace.

"I'm scared." She says.

"I know. Call Art. I'll be fine. This is bullshit."

"I know _that_."

"I don't want you staying here. Looks like someone got in here once. They could again." Raylan says. "You stay with Art and Faylene, or go to another hotel downtown." He almost says or call your daddy, but he doubts Winona has gotten around to telling the Reverend Hollis Yost that she's back with his not-so-favorite ex-son-in-law. Of course, maybe finding out he's going to be a grandpa would mellow him out some. Or not.

"Okay." She nods. She leans in and whispers. "Why only you? Why not arrest me, too?"

"Don't give them any ideas." He gets serious. "Really. Don't talk to anyone from LPD. Not even Karen Esposito."

"She's on our side." Winona insists.

"Yeah, I think you're right, mostly 'cause she's not here…but let me handle it. If they come to talk to you, call your divorce lawyer. She'll know what to do."

He gets an eye-roll. "Yes, Raylan."

"I'm sorry, Marshal, but…" Ralston approaches again.

"I know." He gives Winona a kiss and turns around for the cuffs.

"You need anything, ma'am?" Ralston asks. "A ride somewhere? One of the guys can take you."

"No, no." Winona shakes her head. "I've got my car."

"Alright then." Ralston walks Raylan to the cruiser and puts him in as Winona watches from the doorway.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Art!" Faylene pokes him hard and shoves the phone into his hand. "It's Winona. Put your damn hearing aides in."

He fumbles on the nightstand, finds one and sticks it in an ear. "Hello?"

"Art? Raylan's been arrested. They're saying he murdered Gary."

"What the hell! They can't have any evidence."

Winona tells him about the search warrant and the gun.

"Crap." Art says. He was afraid of something like this ever since Tim told him about Jimbo's reputation. "Where are you?" Faylene is up now, shrugging into her robe. "I'll make coffee." She mouths.

"In my car. Raylan doesn't want me to stay at the motel." Winona's voice is surprisingly steady. He'd expect her to fall apart at this turn of events, but maybe he's underestimated her.

"Get on over here. You can stay with us until this is over."

"I don't want to put you out." Winona says.

"Don't be silly. You come on over, now." He says. "You don't want me to put Faylene on the phone."

"Okay. Thanks, Art. I'm on my way."

Art gets dressed and makes his way down to the kitchen, following the welcome smell of coffee.

"What's going on?" Faylene asks, concern etched on her face.

"Raylan's been arrested." He fills her in on what Winona shared as she pours him a cup.

Faylene shakes her head. "You think this LPD guy is behind it? The one who came to see you?"

"From what Tim found out about him, it isn't out of the question." Art sighs.

"That poor girl. I'm going up and put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room. I didn't change it last time Julie and the boys were here."

"I doubt she'll be sleeping anymore tonight." Art says, but Faylene is in mother –bear mode and pays no attention. A few minutes later he catches the headlights in the window and meets Winona at the door.

"Hi, Art." She's carrying a bag on her shoulder and Raylan's hat in her hand. He stands aside to let her in and she lays it on the coffee table. They both stare at it for a moment.

"I just couldn't leave it at the motel." She shrugs.

"Come on in, Faye's made coffee."

"Just you wait, Art Mullin!" Faylene comes bustling down the stairs. "Coffee's for us. This one isn't having any coffee. That's the last thing she needs."

Faylene wraps Winona in a hug. "I should have called before now. I've been meaning to congratulate you and Raylan on the baby." At Faye's kind words, the thin thread of control Winona was hanging by breaks, and she sobs as the older woman holds her.

"Come sit down." Faye leads her to the couch and pulls some tissues from a box on the table.

"I'm sorry." Winona says. "I guess it all caught up to me."

"Nothing wrong with a good cry." Faylene says.

"Crying doesn't solve anything." Winona says, pulling herself together. She looks up at Art. "What do we do now?"

"Let me make a call."

"Who you gonna call at 4 a.m.?" Faye asks.

"Tim doesn't sleep much." Art says. "Hell, he's probably already at the office. I'll ask him to get in touch with his friend at LPD and find out what the hell is going on."

"You come with me." Faylene says to Winona. "You're going to rest for awhile. There's nothing you can do until morning. That baby needs you to sleep."

"Alright." Winona nods and starts to follow Faylene. At the last minute, she grabs Raylan's hat off the table and carries it with her up the stairs.


	14. Raylan V

Chapter 14

Ralston leads Raylan into the station and goes through the usual booking process, photographs, and fingerprinting. After giving him a towel to wipe the ink off, he walks him to a holding cell.

"You want some coffee?"

"No, thanks." Raylan says. He figures the courtesy is because he's a LEO, and maybe because Ralston has his own suspicions about his boss. He's seemed a rather reluctant participant tonight.

"Someone will be here in a minute to take you down to interrogation. Detective Carroll wants a word before we finish up." He slides the barred door closed and leaves Raylan alone.

Raylan sits on the bench inside the cell and watches the clock.

3:00 a.m.: He wonders if Winona's at Art's yet.

3:30 : He wonders how in the hell they got that gun into the motel room.

4:00 a.m.: He wonders what his chances are for making bail.

4:30 : He realizes that he wouldn't last two days in prison.

Somehow despite that last grim thought, he must doze off because the next thing he knows, the clock says six and Jimbo Carroll is hovering over him.

"Why Marshal Givens…what are you doing here? Oh, wait, that's right." He comes forward and leans down close enough that Raylan can smell stale coffee and a hint of whiskey on his breath. "You're under arrest for murder." His voice drops to a menacing growl. "Get up."

He stands and Carroll re-cuffs him, tighter than necessary, but Raylan doesn't give him the satisfaction of wincing.

Jimbo jerks him up by the shoulder and pushes him forward down the narrow hall. Once they're past the desk and no longer under the watchful eye of the clerk, he slams Raylan face first into the doorframe making his head spin and bloodying his nose. "Oops." He says, chuckling. "Be careful not to bump into anything." He bounces him off the wall several more times as they make their way forward.

At the end of the hall, Jimbo shoves Raylan into the interrogation room, banging his hip into the corner of the table. Raylan sticks a foot out and the big man is caught unawares. He goes down hard, smacking his head on the table on his way to the floor. "Sonofabitch!" He yells.

"What's going on in here?"

Raylan looks up to see a tall, slim woman with short-cropped black hair standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"He fell." Raylan shrugs.

"I can see that. What the hell happened to you? You fall, too?"

"Yep, I did." Raylan meets Jimbo's eyes.

"Yeah, we're just a couple of klutzes." Jimbo agrees.

The woman holds out a hand to Carroll, and despite her slight frame, has no problem helping the big man to his feet.

"Go get yourself an ice-pack." She says to Carroll. "And bring back one for him, too."

"I ain't going anywhere. You go get us ice packs." Jimbo snarls.

"Actually, the Deputy Chief is upstairs and wants a word." She says. "Something about that girl they found out on Holland Road last week. Her parents have got the media involved and he wants you to talk to some reporter."

"Shit." The big man glares at her. "You sure you can't stall him?"

"This guy isn't going anywhere. I'll get him an ice pack, you go deal with the Chief. She looks him over. I'd stop off in the bathroom first though. Wipe the blood off your lip."

Carroll trudges out, grumbling under his breath. The woman turns back to Raylan . "Karen Esposito." She introduces herself. "He do this?"

"What do you think?" Raylan asks.

"You trip him?" She smiles.

"Mighta caught my foot. Totally accidental."

"I'm sure." She walks over. "Let me get those cuffs." She takes them off and slips them into her pocket.

He watches as she sits across from him, puts on her glasses, and opens the folder Jimbo laid on the table. Flipping through the pages, she glances up at him. "So…how'd the gun get under the bed? You put it there?"

"No."

"It your gun?"

"No."

"Is it Mrs. Hawkins' gun?"

"No."

"Have you ever seen it before?"

"No."

"So, you think someone put it there to frame you."

"Yep."

"Are you going to give me anything but one word answers?" She says with half a smile.

"No." He smiles back.

"Okay." Karen says. "I'll talk then. You listen. Nod if you want. I know about Wynn Duffy. I know that Mr. Hawkins took out a hit on his wife and probably wouldn't have minded if you were a casualty as well. I know that this wasn't Mr. Hawkins first go-round with Duffy. This time, Mr. Duffy was Mr. Hawkins partner in a deal to buy a horse and was never paid for his trouble for that or the hit….that's what the insurance money was for." She stops.

"I'm impressed." Raylan says.

"Seems to me Mr. Duffy has a lot more reason to want Mr. Hawkins dead than you do, and is far more likely to solve his problems that way."

"Thanks."

"Well, my theory didn't stop you from being arrested and now, for whatever reason, they have a weapon, found in your possession, which ballistics will probably tell us is the murder weapon."

"No doubt."

She closes the file and folds her hands together on top of it. "Do you have an attorney?"

"No."

"Get one." Esposito advises. "Have you had your phone call?"

"No."

"Come with me." She takes him into the small office and walks to the closest desk. "I can cuff you to the desk, or I can sit here while you make the call."

"You can stay." Raylan picks up the phone and dials Art's number. When Faylene answers, he asks for Winona. He hates it when he has to tell Faye to wake her up.

"Hey." He says when she answers sleepily. He gives her a minute to wake up fully. "You still friends with that lawyer over in Louisville? The guy you grew up with?"

"Cooper?"

"Yeah."

"Gary didn't like him much, but I still talk to him from time to time. Oh!" She says. "Why didn't I think of that? I'll call him right now."

"Get him here, if you can."

"I will. What time is the arraignment?"

Raylan holds a hand over the phone and asks Esposito. "You know what time they'll take me over?"

"You can delay until your attorney arrives." She tells him.

"Tell him this afternoon." That would give him time to meet with Cooper and give him a heads up on what he's getting into.

"Okay." Winona says. "Can I call back and let you know?"

"Call Karen Esposito." He says. Karen nods in acquiescence.

"Okay. You alright?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"Faye's taking care of me."

"Good." He puts his head down and turns from Esposito's gaze. "I love you."

There's a pause, and when she speaks her voice is husky. "I love you, too." Winona says. "I'm calling Coop right now."

He hangs up the phone and follows Karen back to the interrogation room.


	15. Winona II

Chapter 15

Winona sits cross-legged on the bed and pulls out her cell phone. She scrolls through the numbers. Cooper Atherton pops up and she punches it in and waits. Voice mail. Crap. She scrolls again and finds his office number under his law firm, Newman, Atherton, and Hayes. This time she gets a receptionist, and then Cooper's secretary.

"Can I ask who's calling?"

"Winona Hawkins." She says. "Tell him it's an emergency."

"He's in a meeting. I really shouldn't interrupt him." The woman protests. "I can leave him a message."

"Please. I really need to talk to him now." Winona says. "Just tell him."

Minutes pass listening to awful canned music versions of 80's hits and she begins to worry that she's been forgotten or deliberately left on hold. Finally there's a click and Cooper's familiar twang comes over the line.

"What's goin' on Winona?" He asks. "You rob a bank and need a lawyer?"

Winona laughs in spite of herself. No matter how long they go between visits, it's always like they just talked yesterday. She gets right to the point. "Do you remember Raylan?"

"Sure, he's the husband that liked me." Coop quips. "He in some kind of trouble?"

Winona explains the situation, telling Cooper everything she knows and some things she's only guessing at. It's a huge relief to be able to share everything without being careful. He listens, occasionally saying 'Um hmmm' if only to let her know he's still on the other end. Knowing him, he's writing every word down.

"Let me get this straight. Gary tried to have you killed?" Cooper says when she's finished. "Shit. Far as I'm concerned, if Raylan killed him, it'd be justifiable homicide. I mean, we never got along, but I didn't think the guy was that big an asshole. He seemed to love you. You loved him once, right?"

"I thought I did." Winona says. "Now, sometimes, I'm not sure. I think I loved the idea of him, Cooper." She sighs. "I don't know if I ever stopped loving Raylan."

"Yeah, well, that would eat at a man. And Gary probably knew it on some level. Still…you were married to him for what, six years, and now; not only did he betray you, but he's dead so you don't get to confront him." He pauses. "You okay?"

"I don't think I've even begun to deal with any of that yet." Winona says. "Will you help Raylan?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I have to clear my schedule for the afternoon, but that's a pain in the butt for Liza, not for me. I'll be there."

"Oh, my God, Coop, thank you!"

"Anything for you. Besides, I can't say I'm unhappy that you're back with Raylan. That man is fiiiiiine." He puts an emphasis on the vowel in his southern-boy-gone-bad way.

"Cooper!" Winona giggles.

"Don't worry, Raylan's never seemed interested and besides, I've got my hands full with Tony."

"You're still together?" She finds that surprising. Coop and his boyfriend are complete polar opposites physically and otherwise. Coop, endlessly tall and blonde with a runner's rangy build and a total enthusiasm for all life has to offer; and black-haired black-eyed Tony, who barely tops her in height and has the squat compact physique of a wrestler. She recalls him as serious to the point of grim.

"Yep. Seven years in April. Hey, we beat you."

"Both marriages." Winona admits. "Good for you."

"Third time's the charm, Sweetie."

"I hope so, since we're going to have a baby." She holds her breath for his reaction.

"You're pregnant?" He gives a low whistle. "Happy?"

"Yeah, we're happy." Except for all this other shit, she thinks.

"Can I be crazy Uncle Cooper?"

"Count on it."

"Listen, I'm gonna go so I can get over there. I should be there by noon. I'll go straight to the jail. I'm gonna call the courthouse now and see what time they've set for the arraignment. I'll call you when I get into town."

"Alright. Thanks, Cooper. I can't wait to see you."

"Same here. Sorry about the circumstances, but it's great to talk to you, Noni. I've missed you."

"Me, too." Winona hangs up the phone with a smile on her face. She _has_ missed Cooper. They saw each other through high school in a place both of them found stifling and swore they'd never come back to. They went to the same college and reveled in the freedom of being away from confining parents (hers) and the pressures of pretending to be something that you weren't (his).

When she married, Raylan, he never had a problem with the fact that her best girlfriend was a guy, or that Cooper was gay. He and Coop got along, and the three of them had fun together when they happened to be in the same place. Which wasn't often enough.

With Cooper in Louisville, Winona thought that moving back to Kentucky would mean seeing more of him, but Gary had taken an instant dislike to Coop and the feeling had been mutual. Although Winona attempted to keep up the friendship, it became harder and harder to deal with and they had drifted apart. At least one good thing seems to be coming out of all of this mess. She's got Cooper back.


	16. Raylan VI

Chapter 16

Raylan looks up as the door to the holding cell slides open. The shock of white blond hair is unmistakable as the lawyer ducks to enter.

"Cooper Atherton." Raylan says. "Been a long time. How ya been?" He stands and shakes the man's hand.

"From the looks of things, better than you, Cowboy." Coop says. "What the hell happened to your face?"

"Seems I fell into a wall." Raylan says. "Several times."

"Um hmm." Coop pulls out his Blackberry. "Hold still." He snaps a photo. "Might come in handy."

"You should see the other guy."

Cooper smiles, but gets right down to business. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a bear on I-64. Took me almost two hours. We've only got about twenty minutes before they take you over. We're going in front of Judge…" He scrolls down the PDA screen. " …Forester. I'll meet you there. This is simple. We go in, make sure you're who they say you are, the bailiff'll read the charges, they'll put me down as attorney of record, you'll enter a plea, 'not guilty', I assume, and then they set bail. I'll ask for own recognizance; that won't fly, but we should get bail."

"And if we don't?"

"Well, then, you're in for an uncomfortable month or so. But, I'm going to argue your status as a Marshal and your connection to the community, as well as weak evidence." Cooper's Blackberry buzzes and he reads the message, types something so quickly on the keyboard that his long fingers are a blur, and pockets it again in one smooth motion

"This whole thing is bullshit."

"I know. I talked to Winona." He glances at his watch. "Listen, I'm gonna head down. It's always nice to meet the D.A. before these things. 'Specially since I'm an out-of-towner." He looks Raylan up and down. The henley and jeans he threw on in the middle of the night are obviously not passing muster with Cooper, considering the man is wearing what's probably a tailor-made suit in dark blue silk that undoubtedly cost more than Raylan made last month. "If we go to trial, we're gonna have to get you a better wardrobe."

"If we go to trial what I'm wearin' will be the least of our problems."

"Still. Impressions mean a lot, especially to a jury. You're a handsome man. Put you in a good suit, getcha a haircut, and lose the stubble…you come off less possible vigilante, more respectable law enforcement officer."

"They'll dig up every shooting I have on my record."

"Yeah, they will. And we'll have to counter it all. But there's time to talk about that later, if we have to. I'll see you at the courthouse."

"Alright." They shake again and Cooper leaves.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The arraignment goes exactly like Cooper predicted it would. Once he's identified and the bailiff reads the charges and Raylan pleads 'not 'guilty. Then they move on to bail, and Cooper does his work.

"Your honor, these charges are ridiculous. My client is an upstanding member of this community and a law enforcement officer himself. He has strong ties here in Lexington and down in Harlan and is not a flight risk."

The D.A. objects on the seriousness of the charges, but the judge bangs his gavel, sets bail at $200,000 cash or bond, gives a date the following week for a preliminary hearing, and it's over.

Cooper turns to him. "Okay…you have to put down ten percent. You got that?"

"I've got some money stashed away, yeah." Raylan says. He does some figuring in his head. "Course, depending on what the Marshal Service decides to do with me, it may mean you don't get paid right away."

"Don't worry about me." Coop says. "This is chicken shit. You're being railroaded. I'll do it pro-bono."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. I want to. If you want to settle up later, it comes to that, we'll talk. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Alright. They're gonna take you back down to holding. I'll pick up Winona, she'll have to co-sign for the bail." He looks at his watch. "We should be back here in an hour, maybe two."

"Okay, then." Raylan says. "Thanks, Cooper."

"No problem. We'll all have dinner later, and get started on some strategy. I have some questions that we'll need to go over before the preliminary hearing. Hopefully, we can make this whole thing go away next week."


	17. Jimbo III

Chapter 17

"Dammit! Dammit all to hell!" Jimbo stomps back into the office pulling his tie off. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the chair. Sweat stains his armpits. Reaching into the bottom desk drawer, he pulls out a flask and takes a long swig.

His cell phone rings and he glances at the number. He hits 'ignore' and takes another, longer, drink. He paces in front of his desk trying to figure out what to do next. He didn't expect Givens to make bail. He sure as hell didn't expect him to show up with that smooth-talking giant of an attorney from Louisville in the two-thousand dollar suit. He'd figured on him hirin' some local dumbshit who didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground in criminal court.

The phone rings again, and he starts to hit 'ignore' a second time, but thinks better of it and answers. No use delaying the inevitable.

"Carroll." He barks.

"What the hell happened in there, Jimbo? Why is Givens walking around like a fuckin' free man?"

"Look Duffy, there's only so much I can do to circumvent the legal system here. He got himself a good lawyer and he made bail." He tips the flask again and drinks the last of it. The amber liquid burns all the way down and at last the comforting warmth spreads all the way through him. Liquid courage. No doubt he needs it.

"Am I going to have to take care of this myself?" Wynn asks.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on Jim, I think you know. He disappears, everyone just thinks he jumped bail."

"What about the ex-wife; girlfriend, what-ever-the-hell she is…you think she'll believe that? And his boss at the Marshal service?" Jimbo scoffs.

"So she disappears, too." Duffy says. "That's even better. Looks like they've run off together. More believable." Duffy chuckles. "She's a looker. Do her first, make him watch. I like it."

Duffy's words give Jimbo a chill when he remembers the note he saw scrawled on Esposito's desk when he rifled through it the night before. He'd planned on using it as leverage with Givens today, but the Deputy Chief's asinine public relations campaign had meant spending the entire morning with the new big-busted blonde crime reporter from channel 10, and he'd never gotten the chance.

"The ex-wife's pregnant, Duffy."

"So?" Duffy retorts.

"So? SO?" Jimbo yells into the phone. He can feel his blood pressure rise. "Really? You'd make a pregnant woman 'disappear'? That doesn't bother you at all?" He picks up the flask, realizes it's empty and tosses it across the room. He knew Duffy was insane, but this turns his stomach.

"Listen, you said you had this. You don't show me some results…bail revoked, accidental shooting, something and soon, Jimbo…I am going to take care of this in my own way and it's on you. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Jimbo hangs up the phone. The last swallow of whiskey is threatening to make a return trip. Givens is one thing. His pregnant ex-wife is another. Shit. This is one helluva inconvenient time to get a conscience.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen Esposito frowns as she studies the organized chaos that is her desk. Things aren't where she left them. She's certain of it. Someone has been here, and as careful as they might have been, the mess probably made them sloppy about putting things back where they found them. It may look like a disaster to someone else, but Karen can locate anything she wants in seconds. Her private notes on her meeting with Winona Hawkins are not in the right place, and the notebook is open, not closed like she left it.

She eyeballs the room. Jimbo is in his office, talking on the phone with someone. He's not happy. As she watches, he throws something across the room and when he hangs up the phone, he doesn't look like the confident asshole she's come to loathe. He looks like a man who knows he's in way over his head.

Karen pulls the folder Hank gave her out of her bag and glances over the information he was able to compile on Wynn Duffy. There isn't a lot. He works out of Frankfort, which she already knew. He's connected to the 'Dixie Mafia'; a moniker that made Esposito laugh the first time she heard it, considering her experiences with the real thing in Baltimore. Then she saw some of their handy work and it wasn't funny anymore. She flips the page up to look over the man's arrest record when the door to Carroll's office slams, startling her.

Jimbo throws his jacket on and stomps heavily toward the elevator, back on the phone again. Watching him, Karen makes a decision. Grabbing her purse and sliding out of her heels and into the flat shoes she keeps under her desk, she heads for the stairs, glad for the six-miles a day she puts in to stay in shape. She gets to the lobby right behind the elevator and pulls out her cell phone, pushing in the number at the same time as she checks to make sure Jimbo is headed for his car.

"Hey, Hank." She says when her old boss answers. "You still keep that spare key in the wheel well of your car?" When he answers in the affirmative she continues. "Can I borrow it? I need to follow someone and they know my ride. I'll leave my keys here at the receptionist desk for you and we can trade back in the morning."

That settled, she finds Hank's Toyota, black and unobtrusive, in his usual parking space and feels for the key. She's quick, in the car and turning the ignition when she sees Jimbo's dark blue Lexus pull out of the lot. She waits a beat, then two, and pulls into the evening traffic headed out of Lexington, keeping her boss's taillights in view.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tim and Rachel are waiting for Art when he gets back from the arraignment.

"How'd it go?" Tim asks. Rachel looks up from her paperwork, anxious for his reply.

"He made bail." Art says. "I'm putting him on desk until further notice. He doesn't leave this office. He can run background checks and catch up on paperwork. Hell, he can make coffee. I'm not suspending him. I'll fight 'em if they try."

"Good." Tim nods. "But please don't let him make coffee."

Art nods, recalling the last time Raylan attempted to operate the coffee maker. "Okay, he can go _get_ coffee."

"We found Dervon Lewis, Chief." Rachel says.

"Yeah. In the morgue." Tim adds.

"What?"

Tim leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "We had watched his apartment for two days, either Rachel or I or both of us. No sign of him. I decided to send the photo to the guy I know at LPD and a couple of folks I know at the hospital. It popped. They found him last night. Dervon had two bullets to the back of the head."

"Who'd he piss off?" Art says. "There goes our line on who Carroll mighta been meetin' with."

"Maybe not." Tim says. He hands Art a photograph. At first, it looks like the same photo he showed Art on his phone a day or so ago, just bigger; which it is; but on second glance, Art notices part of the photo circled in black ink. A face is reflected in the mirror above the bar. It's blurry, but it's there.

"You got the guy?"

"I sent it to a friend at the Bureau. She's going to see if she can bring it up clear enough to run it through and get an I.D." Rachel says. "We should know something by tomorrow."

"Good." Art looks at both of them. "Good work. We find out who he is this could really help us find out what Carroll is up to." Art heads for his office.


	18. Winona III

Chapter 18

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Winona leans back, resting her head against Raylan's shoulder. Cooper left to drive back to Louisville after dinner, and Art and Faylene have gone off to bed. But after spending his day in the confinement of a holding cell, Raylan is craving fresh air. So they're still here on Art's cozy patio, stretched out together on the chaise in the moonlight, surrounded by the quiet sounds of the Kentucky night.

"You remember when we met?" He asks.

"You mean when you 'bout knocked me down in the courthouse lobby back in Salt Lake? That meetin'?"

"Yeah."

"You were the handsomest man I'd ever seen, in spite of the hat." She laughs.

"I thought you were awful pretty, but that's not what sold me."

"Oh?"

"Nope. There's this beautiful girl, scramblin' to pick up all her stuff and you open your mouth and out comes…_home_."

Winona cranes her neck up to look at him. "But you hated Kentucky. We both did."

"Yeah, but hearin' that lilt…sounded so familiar. Made me feel like I already knew you. Then you hurried off before I could think of anything to say and I thought 'Damn, I blew that!'." He takes a drink of Art's whiskey. "But, I got another chance at Lido's that night."

She smiles, remembering. "You called me 'Kentucky' and asked me to dance."

"I heard that voice from across the bar. Saw you laughing. Had to do _somethin'. _Didn't know your name. That was the only thing I could think of." He chuckles. "Good thing they switched to a slow song before we got out there. Don't think I could have faked it through anything else."

"We didn't dance long, as I recall."

"Nope. As I recall, we left."

She rolls over to face him. "I loved you ever since."

"Seems you took a little break in there." He raises an eyebrow.

"No, Raylan. I always loved you." She brushes the hair off his forehead with her fingers, then whispers. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She lowers her eyes. "For givin' up. I was just so damn tired of beatin' my head against your brick walls and Gary came along all open and there weren't any walls there and….I…."

"Shhh." He soothes. "I'm sorry, too."

"You didn't do anything."

"You're right." He nods. "I didn't. But I should've. I shoulda come back and told you I loved you and needed you and we'd work it out somehow. Mighta turned out different if I'da done that."

"It might've." She agrees. "Why didn't you?"

He shrugs. "Easier not to." He finishes off the whiskey and sets the glass down. "Besides, you mighta said no."

"We both did the easy thing, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did."

They're quiet for a long while. Katydids chirp now and again, and there's a rustling in the bushes, probably a possum or a coon, or maybe a neighbor's dog. A car goes by, music from the radio trailing along. Raylan's so still and calm she wonders if he's fallen asleep.

"I'm not goin' to prison for somethin' I didn't do." He says, breaking the silence.

"You won't." Winona assures him. "Cooper says it won't even make it to trial."

"I hope he's right. But if not…" Raylan looks away across the yard and she follows his gaze.

"What?" She leans up on one elbow. "What're you gonna do?"

"If things look bad….if Coop starts to talk about a plea deal or anything like that…"

"Raylan…" She lays a palm on his cheek, careful not to touch the bruise swelling above his cheekbone. His skin is warm, flushed from the whiskey, and she turns him gently to meet her gaze. "You promise me something right this minute."

"If I can." In the dim light coming from the living room window his eyes look dark and bottomless. It scares her.

She swallows her fear and lets it feed her anger. "Don't you dare even think about takin' off and leavin' me here. I _know _you. Don't you go thinkin' for one goddamn minute that I'd… that _we'd _be better off without you. We wouldn't."

"Winona…"

She glares at him. "I'll tell Cooper what you said. They'll revoke your bail."

"You really want me in _jail_?"

"_Promise. Me_. Now, Raylan."

"Alright. I won't leave without you. I swear." He pulls her closer, burying his face in her hair. "Maybe we shoulda kept that money." He whispers "We could be halfway to Costa Rica by now."


	19. Trio

Chapter 19

"We'll take it." Raylan says as he walks by Tim's desk. He throws his hat on the filing cabinet and sinks into the chair. He didn't sleep well and he has a headache, from the beating or the whiskey, he's not sure which, but figures on the former, since he didn't drink that much.

"Winona liked it?" Tim asks.

"Yeah. We stayed at Art's last night since neither of us really wanted to go back to the motel. I ran her by this morning before we came to work. She thinks it's perfect. Says thank you."

"It ain't a gift." Tim deadpans.

"Okay, Smartass, what's the rent?"

Tim tosses out a figure and Raylan tacks on another fifty a month for an open-ended lease and they shake.

"You need any help movin'?" Tim chuckles.

"I think I can manage. But Winona's gonna want some things from the house. We could probably use a hand with that later."

"I'm free Saturday. Will there be pizza?"

"Pizza?"

"Hell, Raylan, haven't you ever moved before? There's always pizza. People come and move heavy shit for you and then you feed 'em pizza."

"Sure then, pizza." Raylan says.

"Well, Good Morning, Sunshine." Art says as he walks in. "You were up and gone awfully early this morning after bein' up awfully late last night."

"Sorry about that, _Dad_." Raylan drawls. "I won't break curfew again, promise."

"And the girlfriend sleepin' over thing needs to stop too." Art jokes. "Next thing ya know, you'll be tellin' me she's knocked up." He chuckles at his own cleverness and ducks the paper wad Raylan tosses.

There's a long moment of silence as Tim stares at Raylan.

"What?" Raylan asks. He feels Tim's eyes on him, but he pretends to shuffle through some papers.

"Winona's pregnant?"

Raylan nods. "Yep."

"And that's…uh…great?" Tim raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah it is."

"Well, then, congratulations." Tim says.

"Thanks." Raylan pushes away from the desk and gets up. "Want some coffee? I hear that's my new job."

"Yeah, I'll take some. Black, no sugar. You goin' to Shelby's? An egg sandwich would be good." He moves some papers on the desk and the photograph of Jimbo Carroll winds up on top of the stack. It catches Raylan's eye.

"Where'd this come from?" Raylan picks up the photograph and studies it. The circled image in the mirror looks familiar to him. "You got a magnifying glass?"

"Rachel does. Top drawer with the pencils and lip gloss and shit."

Raylan pulls it out and holds it over the photo. "Sonofabitch."

"What?" Tim asks. "You know who that is?"

"Can't be sure. It's pretty blurry." Raylan sets the photo back down on Tim's desk, leans over and looks at it again through the magnifying glass. "Sure looks like a guy name of Wynn Duffy. Dixie Mafia out of Frankfort. Gary was mixed up with him."

"Gary Hawkins…that Gary?"

"Yeah, that Gary." Raylan nods. "Carroll told me he didn't know him."

"Looks like he mighta lied." Tim says. "Rachel sent it to a friend at the Bureau. We should know today whether she was able to clear it up any, get a better I.D."

"Let me know."

"You got it."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Mom!" Karen Esposito rolls over and puts the pillow over her head.  
>MOM! Phone!" Sam yells again, louder this time.<p>

She snakes a hand out of the covers and Sam puts the phone in it. "We're out of Pop Tarts." He says accusingly.

"_Sorry_." She mouths. "Hello?"

"Karen, Hank. You got my car? I'm gonna need it later this morning."

She pokes her head out of the covers and looks at the clock. 9:30. SHIT! "Hang on a minute." She tells Hank. "Sam, get dressed. You're late for school!" She yells.

"It's Friday. Teacher's meeting today, Mom." He says from the doorway. She can hear the beeping of his game as he clicks the buttons. "I'm going to Tyler's, remember?"

"I remember now." She says. "Get dressed anyway. You may not be late, but I am." She goes back to the phone. "I'll be there in twenty…no…make it thirty." She'll go through McDonalds on the way to Tyler's house. That'll at least make up for the lack of Pop Tarts.

She showers in five, gets dressed, rubs gel in her hair, throws on mascara and what little make-up she wears, and they are out the door in fifteen minutes. McDonalds and the promise of pizza for dinner placate Sam, for the time being anyway, and she leaves him at Tyler's with instructions to be ready for her to pick him up at six.

As she snakes through the mid-morning traffic toward the station she tries to make sense of the surveillance she did on Carroll last night. She'd followed him up I-75 toward Frankfort, but all he'd done was get off at a rest stop about twenty miles outside of Lexington. He got out of his car, looked around, and headed towards the men's room. She'd parked several cars away and waited. He was gone a long time, and when he finally came out he looked so dejected she'd almost felt sorry for him. What had he been doing there? It seems like a strange place to meet someone. Unless….nah. Jimbo wasn't closeted gay, she was pretty sure of that. But then what the hell was he doing at a highway rest stop in the middle of the night?

She'd followed him back into Lexington, but the only place he'd stopped before going home was the liquor store. From the size of the bag he walked out with, Jimbo would be nursing quite a hangover today.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oo-o-o-o-o-

For the first time in almost twenty years, except for the day his daughter was born and last year when he had food poisoning from the shellfish at Crenshaw's; Detective Jim Carroll doesn't go to work. Truth be told, he feels worse today than he did with the food poisoning. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and wanders into the bathroom searching the medicine cabinet for something to stop the pounding in his head.

Ibuprofen in hand, he goes to the kitchen and makes coffee. He's tempted to add some whiskey to the cup, but decides a clear head is more important. There are plans to be made, and he needs to make damn sure they're perfect.


	20. Raylan VII

_A/N Thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to review. Special thanks to Red Molly, whose help and encouragement have been a boon. _

Chapter 20

"Let there be pizza!" Coop calls out, holding the boxes in front of him dramatically and making his way into the crowded living room. Raylan pushes papers and packing things off of the low table and onto the floor.

"Don't let Winona see you do that, Slob." Coop says.

"I'll pick the stuff up later. Just sit 'em down here."

"I got beer." Tim announces. He's carrying a case in one hand and drinking his first bottle with the other.

Winona comes in with paper plates and some napkins and Coop opens the boxes. "We got onions and peppers here. Sausage and mushroom on this one and the last one's pepperoni. Pick your poison."

Faylene sticks her head out of the kitchen where she's helping Winona unpack. "Don't you eat those peppers and onions Art Mullin. You'll pay for it later. And so will I."

Raylan watches and grins as Art does precisely that.

"I'll take a beer." Rachel says. "But no pizza."

"Why not?" Raylan asks. "You got something against pizza?"

"No." Rachel shakes her head. "I'm eating later."

"Later? You got a date?" Tim grins, handing her a beer. When Rachel ducks his question he calls out. "Hey y'all, Deputy Rachel Brooks has a _date!_"

"Tim, you're embarrassing her." Winona says.

"I'm meeting someone for dinner later." Rachel nods. "No big deal. Here, you want one? Tim'll get me another." She makes to hand the beer to Winona and the whole room stares at her. "What?" She looks around. "Okay, I'm obviously missing something."

"You're the detective." Raylan smirks, biting into a slice.

Rachel looks at Winona, at Raylan, and then back to Winona who smiles and pats her stomach. "Oh!" Rachel says. "You guys are pregnant?"

"Well, it's mostly me." Winona laughs. "He still gets to drink beer."

"Congratulations." Rachel says. She means it, he can tell, but Raylan sees a look pass between her and Tim.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Well, I'm gonna get goin'" Tim says, pushing up from the chair. He weaves a bit, and sits back down. "In a minute here."

Rachel went off to her not-date a couple of hours ago and Art and Faylene left right behind her, him complaining of indigestion and her saying didn't she warn him not to eat those onions and peppers and he should know by now to listen to her? They've been watching the Reds lose again, 8-6 to the Cubs, and pounding beer and shots of Jack since the others left.

"You ain't drivin' nowhere." Raylan says from the couch. "You're …intox..intox.." He reconsiders his word choice. "…drunk."

"Look who's talkin'…barely." Tim retorts.

"I'd take ya home." Coop slurs. He's sitting on the floor, long legs stretched out in front of him. "But I'm kinda shitfaced." He laughs. "That second case of beer probably wasn't a great idea." He belches and laughs again.

"Seemed like one at the time." Raylan looks down at Winona, curled on the couch, her head on his lap, sound asleep. "She's sober. But she's not drivin' anyone anywhere either."

Tim gets up. This time he manages to take a step without weaving. Then he stands very still for a moment and takes another, moving slowly toward the front door.

"I said you ain't goin' anywhere." Raylan reminds him.

"Sleepin' bag in the car. 'less you got more beds hidin' somewheres."

"Watch the steps." Raylan says. "You fall, we ain't comin' out to getcha. You'll be sleepin' out there _allllll_ night." He laughs.

Tim gives him the finger as he walks unsteadily out the front door and onto the porch.

"I'll take the floor." Coop says. "The couch is too short and 'sides I'm already down here." He stretches out flat. "Throw me a pillow?" He asks Raylan. One smacks him in the face seconds later and Raylan gets a muffled "Thanks."

"No problem." Raylan is contemplating just how to get both himself _and _Winona from the couch to the bedroom in his inebriated state without waking her up when she stirs.

"Ummm." She says, sitting up. "Did Tim leave?"

"To drunk ta leave." Raylan says. "Went to get his sleepin' bag outta the car."

"Coop?"

"Passed out." Raylan points. "Lightweight."

Tim comes back, bag slung over his shoulder.

"You can have the couch." Raylan says. "We was just goin' ta bed.'"

Winona kneels and plants a kiss on Cooper's cheek. He doesn't budge. "'Night, Tim." She says, over her shoulder padding back to the bedroom.

"G'night, Winona." Tim spreads out the sleeping bag and flops down on top of it.

Raylan starts to follow her but remembers something and turns back. "Hey what's with that look ya gave Rachel?"

"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout?" Tim's eyes are closed.

"When she figured out 'bout Winona bein' pregnant. You two gave each other 'the look'."

"You're the detective." Tim says.

"Whatsat supposed to mean?"

Tim opens his eyes and leans up on one elbow. "Alrighty…I'm just drunk enough to tell ya the truth. After what happened down in Harlan last month we just hope you got your shit together's all. That better be the last damn time you go off half-cocked with no back-up. You got a family now." Tim flops back down and closes his eyes, avoiding Raylan's stare. "I been to too many fuckin' funerals. Don't need one more."


	21. Trio II

Chapter 21

Raylan stumbles out to the kitchen the next morning, bleary-eyed, his head pounding. Cooper is standing at the window, his back to Raylan, talking on his cell. "Yes, okay, _okay_, I should have called. I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "I forgot. I know. It wasn't on purpose, Tony. Fine. Do what you want. I'll be home when I'm home." He hangs up the phone and slaps the counter with the palm of his hand. "Dammitt"

Raylan clears his throat. "Mornin'." It comes out as rough as he feels.

"Oh, mornin' Raylan." Coop shrugs, embarrassed. "Sorry. Guess you heard that."

"None of my business."

"I 'spose not."

"Tim still asleep?" Raylan asks, changing the subject.

"Up and gone when I woke up." Coop says. "Winona?"

"In the shower." Raylan yawns. "Coffee?"

"God, yes. Please." Cooper rubs his temples.

"Well, there's none here. We might as well go grab some at the Stop-and-Go and bring it back." Raylan picks up his keys from the counter, grabs the hat, pushing it way down low on his brow to block as much of the late morning sunlight as possible, and heads out the door with Cooper following behind.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jimbo Carroll sips his coffee and watches Givens and his lawyer get into the car. He waits a moment, puts the sedan in gear and heads out, following them at a respectable distance. He knows better than to think he won't be spotted, but that isn't the point.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Just down the block another car pulls away from the curb. "Mom, can we go to Game Stop after this?" Sam asks from the backseat.

"Yep. The rest of the day is all yours, soon as I see what's going on here."

She came upon her boss leaving the station by accident. It was unusual to see Jimbo working on a weekend, so she's followed him. Having Sam along means that no matter what, there'll be no confronting Carroll today. Karen doesn't really think he'd do anything, anyway, but he's been acting strangely and now she's damn curious as to why he's decided to follow the Marshal around town on a Sunday morning.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Why you keep lookin' in the mirror?" Cooper asks as they pull out of the Stop-and-Go. He keeps one hand on the extra coffee they got for Winona, and carefully sips his own.

"Someone's following us." Raylan says. "Look in the side mirror…see that Lexus?"

Coop leans over to peer in the mirror. "Yeah, nice ride."

"It's been with us since we left the house. Pulled into the gas station across the street while we got the coffee. Looks like that LPD guy I told you about; Jim Carroll, but with the tinted glass I can't be sure."

"You got all that _with _a hangover?" Cooper says. "Damn, Cowboy, you _are _good."

"There's another car, following him." Raylan says. "White. Some kinda Toyota or Honda. I can never keep those straight."

"It's an Accord." Coop says, glancing into the rearview.

Raylan raises an eyebrow in surprise.

Coop shrugs. "Tony drives one just like it." He sips more coffee. "I was plannin' on heading back to Louisville today, but considering the reception I'm likely to get, I think I'll just stick around here. We need to get you a suit for Wednesday's hearing anyway. I can get a room at the Marriott tonight."

"I can pick out my own damn suit."

Cooper laughs. "Not according to Winona."

"Yeah, well, Winona's not gonna let _you_ stay at the Marriott either."

"Bossy bitch, ain't she?" Cooper winks at him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen follows Jimbo back to the station after Givens and his lawyer head home. She knows no more about his morning mission than she did when she started.

"Hey." She says to Sam. "I need to stop in here for a minute. Come in with me and you can play on the computer while I talk to my boss."

"Awww. Mom. You said we'd go to Game Stop." Sam stubbornly kicks the back of the seat.

"Come on. None of that. The mall's not even open yet. It's only eleven. Let me talk to Detective Carroll, then we'll go get pancakes and get you a game, okay?"

Sam reluctantly agrees, and Karen feels again the sharp ache of being a single parent. "Thanks, Sam." She says, looking at her son in the rearview. "I promise this will only take a minute."

Jimbo isn't in his office when they walk in. Karen sets Sam up at her desk and pulls up a target practice program he likes. "I'll be right back."

She finds her boss in the break room, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Usually, she's a pretty good judge of mood, and Jimbo's is subdued. On the theory that doing the unexpected might put him off guard, she decides to be straight with the man. "Any particular reason you were trailing Deputy Givens around town just now?"

Carroll looks up at her. "You following me?"

"Yeah, I was."

"You wanna tell me why, exactly?"

Esposito sits down across from the man. "I think there's something going on here that you aren't in complete control over. I think you know something about this case that you aren't telling me. We're supposed to be working together, right?"

For just a moment, she thinks her soft approach has gotten to him. A shadow of something almost hopeful crosses his face. Then his back stiffens. "I'm the one in charge." He says. "You don't agree with the way I'm handling it, talk to the chief."

"Maybe I will." Karen says, pushing away from the table. "Maybe I will."


	22. Raylan VIII

Chapter 22

_A/N I owe the entire premise of this chapter to a friend. She knows who she is. I hope it lives up to expectations. -)_

Winona pads out to the living room in bare feet and Raylan's shirt, carefully weaving her way in and out of boxes stacked on the floor until she reaches where he stands in front of the window. "Whatcha doin'?" She comes up behind him, wraps her arms around his waist, and lays her head in the hollow between his shoulder blades. "Can't sleep?"

"Storm's comin'" He holds back the curtain and gazes out the window as lightening streaks across the sky. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I like a good storm." She says. Thunder rumbles closer and moments later rain lashes against the window. "Are you worried about the hearing?"

"Nah. Cooper's got it covered and I trust him. I'm more worried about shopping for a suit tomorrow. I don't see what's wrong with the two I have."

She gives his shoulder a playful nip with her teeth. "Coop says the black one is too serious and the brown one….."

"What's wrong with the brown one?"

"Coop says no one wears brown anymore."

"Great, I've got a fashion consultant for a lawyer."

"You had that suit when we were married, Raylan. It's seen better days."

He sighs, resigned. "Where're we goin'?"

"Not J.C. Penney." Winona laughs. "Coop mentioned heading up to Cincinnati."

"Cincinnati? We're driving an hour-and-a-half for a suit?"

Winona shrugs. "He likes Nordstrom, and that's the closest. He says they'll alter it to fit while you wait."

"I don't want to wait. I just want to buy the damn suit and bring it home."

"It'll be fun." Winona insists. "I need a few things, too. Nothing fits." She sighs. "I get tired of the same old stores around here."

"I don't think I'm allowed to leave the state when I'm out on bail."

"Cooper thought of that. He checked. As long as you're with him, it's fine. Nice try, though." She takes his hand, linking her fingers through his. "Come back to bed."

"I'd just keep you awake."

She tugs gently on his hand, turning to pull him along behind her. "Who says we have to sleep?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What about this one?"

"Nah. Too blue, and it's all _shiny_."

"Shiny? You gotta be kidding me, Raylan." Winona says, exasperated. "You don't like the tan one or the one with the stripes. You don't like the gray one…"

"That's not gray, it's silver. Looks like a space suit or somethin' Elvis would wear."

"My God you are a difficult man!" Winona eyes Cooper. "A little help here would be appreciated."

Coop looks up from his texting and grins. "Oh, I think you're doin' just fine, Hon."

"Fine?" Winona snorts. "We've been here for an hour. He's rejected every single suit I've picked out. _You _try. This was your big idea anyway. I need a break. I'm goin' downstairs to look at shoes." She turns on her heel and heads toward the escalator.

Cooper clicks the blackberry shut and slips it into his pocket. He walks over to the suit rack and fingers several jackets. He squints as he looks back at Raylan, who's leaning on a display table full of brightly colored ties, scowling.

He pulls a hanger off the rack. "Here, try this one on."

Raylan studies the jacket Coop is holding. "_That's_ gray. The other one was silver."

"This isn't gray." Coop says. "It's _Graphite. _And it's Armani. You can't go wrong with Armani."

Raylan takes the jacket, glancing at the price tag. "Christ, Cooper! I didn't come here to buy a car."

"You'll have this suit forever." Coop assures him. "You can be buried in it."

Raylan glares at him.

"When you're ninety." Coop adds. He gives him a shove toward the dressing room. "Just try the damn thing on, okay? Hang on a minute, I'll get a couple of shirts."

He glances over the shirts and pulls out two, handing them to Raylan, who frowns. "This is purple. Why would I want a purple shirt?"

"It's lavender. Try it on with the jacket."

"_Lavender_? You gotta be shittin' me."

"Trust me." Coop says through gritted teeth. "Just try it on."

After several more minutes of protesting, Raylan goes into the dressing room and Cooper sighs and folds himself into a nearby chair to wait. Soon he spots Winona and waves her over.

"Where's Raylan? Don't tell me he's actually trying something on?" She asks.

"Yep." Coop nods. "I'm a professional."

Winona smacks him with her purse.

"What's in the bag?"

"Two pairs of shoes, a couple of skirts for work, and some jeans. I had to buy a size larger but I am _not_ wearing maternity clothes yet. Ugh." She makes a face.

Coop grins. "I can't wait to see that."

"I don't know…." Raylan says, stepping out of the dressing room.

"Wow." Winona says. She looks at Cooper. "You _are_ a professional and I bow to your superior fashion sense." She gives him a curtsy. "Turn around." She says to Raylan, twirling one finger in the air. She smooths out the lapels on the jacket and kisses him on the cheek. "You look very handsome."

"I feel like a damn mannequin."

"You need a tie." Coop says. "A couple of them."

"I got ties."

"Yeah, I've seen one or two." Coop rolls his eyes. "Betcha had those in college."

"Ties don't wear out." Raylan counters.

"How about this one?" Winona asks, holding up a bright multi-colored tie from the display.

"Are those flowers?" Raylan asks. "I'm not wearin' a tie with _flowers_ on it, Winona. It's …it's…'_prrreeetty_'."

"Pretty? Really? You're really going to do this to the mother of your child who's tired _and_ starving? It's not a dress, it's a damn tie, Raylan. And they aren't flowers. It's just colorful and….abstract."

Coop leans in close to Raylan. "I believe the proper response in these circumstances would be 'Yes, Dear'."

They get the tie, and another, striped one, the suit, two shirts, a belt, and socks that Coop throws in at the last minute before Raylan can object to the fact that they're patterned, not plain. The tailor does several uncomfortable measurements and promises the pants will be hemmed and ready in two hours, tops.

"I spent less money all of last year." Raylan grumbles. "And that includes rent."

"This baby is hungry." Winona says. "Can we eat, please?"

"Tell ya what, dinner's on me." Cooper grins.

"Damn right it is." Raylan says.


	23. Karen III

Chapter 23

"Got it!" Tim says when Raylan walks into the office the next morning. "Rachel's friend at the F.B.I. came through last night." He hands the newly enhanced photo to Raylan.

"You don't even need to run it." Raylan says. "That," He points to the much clearer reflection in the mirror over the bar. "Is Wynn Duffy. What the hell is he doin' talkin' to Jim Carroll?"

"No idea." Art says, peering over Raylan's shoulder. "But it can't be good."

"Can I take this?" Raylan asks.

"Where you think you're goin'?" Art crosses his arms and gives him a look.

"To talk to Karen Esposito."

"You think that's a good idea?" Art asks.

"Well, considering that she was following Carroll while he followed me Sunday mornin', I think she might be harboring suspicions of her own."

"He was following you?" Tim looks up from his desk. "What for?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Can't think of why, 'less he was thinkin' I was gonna skip bail, _with_ my lawyer in the car."

"Why don't you call this Esposito woman and have her come here?" Art suggests. "Your turf. Might give you the upper hand."

"That isn't a bad idea." Raylan says. He looks up the number and makes a call.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen Esposito hangs up the phone and slips back into her shoes and jacket. "Be back in a bit." She tells Leo. "Got an errand I need to run."

It's a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the Kentucky Blue sky, so she decides to walk the four blocks to the courthouse and the Marshal's office. Givens said he had something she needed to see.

Once there, she takes the steps, two at a time, to the third floor offices.

"Detective Esposito? Art Mullin, Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal."

She takes the offered hand. "Karen Esposito. Nice to meet you."

"Come on in here, we'll show you what we've got." He leads the way to a glassed in conference room. "You know Marshal Givens, this is Deputy Gutterson. He's going to start."

After handshakes all around Karen takes a seat.

"A week or so ago I was over in Frankfort; place called Hatfield's."

Karen nods. "I know it."

"Saw your boss at the bar. He met another guy. I took some photos with my phone." He slides the first photo across the table. "This guy, Dervon Lewis, had a rap sheet a half-mile long. He was with the guy who met Detective Carroll. Looked like some kind of muscle. Last week Dervon showed up in the morgue with two bullets to the back of the head."

Karen slips her glasses from her pocket, puts them on, and looks at the photo. "I've never seen or heard of him."

"The guy Carroll was with never turned around, so I couldn't get a clear shot. But, a friend of Deputy Brooks at the Bureau was able to enhance the reflection in the mirror, and this is what we got." He slides the second photo across the table.

"Who is it?" She asks.

"Guy by the name of Wynn Duffy." Raylan says. "Heard of him?" He keeps his eyes on Esposito.

"You know I have." She nods slowly. "Mrs. Hawkins mentioned him as someone her husband had business with."

"You know anything else about him?"

"I do." She meets his gaze. "He's Dixie Mafia. And you suspect he had something to do with Mr. Hawkins death."

"I think he had everything to do with it." Raylan says. "And your boss is in it up to his thick neck."


	24. Karen IV

Chapter 24

Her walk back to the station is more of a stroll. She stops at the deli for a sandwich and sits on a bench in the city park to eat and think. Jimbo is in this up to his neck, just like Givens said. Karen feels it in her bones. Watching him the last week or so has stirred an unexpected sympathy. He's not a good cop anymore, if he ever was. He may not even be a very good man, but whatever he is, she gets the feeling he's being asked to cross a line that he doesn't want to cross. Wynn Duffy, on the other hand, most likely has no lines.

She's got a copy of the photograph in her purse. Givens said he trusted her to decide what to do about it, and with what he's up against, that trust means something. Karen wants to be very careful.

She pulls out the photo and looks it over. What's going on with Jimbo and Duffy? She racks her brain to come up with some reason for the association. Jimbo never seems to be hurting for money. His house isn't large, and with his daughter grown, she doubts child support or alimony are issues anymore. So, it's probably not Duffy's status as a loan shark that's gotten Carroll entangled with him. Then something occurs to her. She throws her sandwich wrapper in the trash and heads back to the office.

An hour later she's sitting across from a very uncomfortable twenty-something Frankfort lowlife Leo sometimes uses for tips.

"I ain't tellin' you nothin' about Duffy. I don't know nothin'." The kid says, shaking his head for emphasis. He's got a streak of bright green on one side of his head and hot pink on the other. If she had the inclination to count the piercings, Karen figures the total would be over ten and that's just the ones she can see. She doesn't even want to think about the others.

"And even if I did know somethin' I know better than to talk about Duffy. He is one crazy mutherfucker. He'll kill ya for lookin' at him funny."

"Listen." Karen says. "I know Duffy handles some sports betting for the Frankfort guys. All I want to do is show you a picture. Just tell me if you've seen this guy. He can't trace it back to you." She shrugs. "I could probably find it out from a half-a-dozen other deadbeats just like you."

"Then why don'tcha?" He chews his lip nervously.

"Detective Ralston just thought you might like some help with that possession charge. It's your second offense, right?"

"Yeah, but it's crap. They didn't have no search warrant."

Karen resists the urge to roll her eyes. She flips open the file on the table in front of her. Wayne McGill was pulled over for DUI resulting in an automatic vehicle search in which marijuana and various prescription drugs for which he did not have a prescription were found. "Probable cause, Wayne." She tells him. "They didn't need one. The charges are good."

"Well, shiiiiitt." Wayne says. He casts his eyes around the room as if expecting Duffy to pop up out of nowhere, then sighs with resignation. "Alright, show me the damn picture."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Back at the courthouse, she catches Deputy Givens on his way out of the building. "Just the guy I wanted to see."

"What's up?"

"Turns out Jimbo likes to bet. Horses, UK football, baseball, you name it."

"Gambling? Makes sense. Dixie Mafia is deep into that sort of thing. Wynn must be in on it. You think he's hit a streak of bad luck and Duffy's pressuring him?"

"Could be. I can't think of anything else."

"Hope he's not bettin' on the Reds. No wonder he's in trouble."

Karen laughs. "I'm going to sit on this for a day or two. Watch him, see what he does."

Raylan nods.

"You be careful." Karen suggests. "I think he's getting desperate."

"I'll keep that in mind."


	25. Winona IV

Chapter 25

Raylan comes in the back door and Winona greets him, stretching up on her toes to give him a kiss. "Thank you." She says. She slips her arms around his neck and gives him a much more serious kiss. "You made my day."

"Um, how exactly?" Raylan asks. "Not that I mind the welcome, but all I did was come home."

"Well, there _is_ that." She agrees. "But the roses were awfully nice, too." She tugs at his tie to loosen it and undoes the top button on his shirt. Flowers are rare, in her experience with Raylan, and deserve a reward. She's been planning an appropriate one all day.

"Roses? I don't know what you're talking about." He says, puzzled.

She stops with her fingers on the second button, tilts her head and stares at him. "The roses, Raylan. Red ones. One on my desk when I got to work this morning, one in the car, and one on the kitchen table when I got home a few minutes ago. What did you do, sneak in before me and double back?" She gives him a smile. She can't tell if he's just trying to play this out a bit longer, or if he's really as confused as he looks.

He pushes her out to arms length, his hands resting on her hips, his face serious. "Roses? Winona, I didn't leave you any roses."

"Well, if it wasn't you, then who was it?"

"Someone who wants to show me how easily they can get to you." Raylan says grimly. The gun is out and he motions to the last rose, now sitting on the counter. "This was here when you got home?"

Winona nods.

"Stay here." He's alert and tense as he moves into the living room. Ignoring his words, she automatically takes a step to follow him.

"I told you to stay in the kitchen." He snaps.

Chagrined, Winona stands by the sink, arms crossed, waiting for him to finish his inspection. He walks back into the kitchen slipping the gun into the holster. "It's clear."

"I coulda told you that." She says. "I've been home for ten or fifteen minutes."

"They mighta been waitin' to get both of us."

"Who are 'they'?" She thinks he's probably being paranoid, as usual, but if she's honest, the thing with the roses _is_ giving her the creeps.

"Duffy. Carroll. Who the hell knows?" His jaw twitches. "We're getting you out of here. Out of town. I want you to go to Louisville and stay with Cooper for a few days."

"No." Winona shakes her head. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I can't take more time off work anyway, Raylan. I'd be driving back and forth and I'm exhausted as it is. Besides, the doctor's appointment is coming up remember? I'm staying here and that's final." She pushes past him, headed into the bedroom.

"Fine." He follows her. "Change clothes. We're goin' to the range. Now."

All at once she's incredibly tired, and the thought of firing round after round at the target while Raylan critiques her form just further exhausts her. "I don't have a gun." She tells him.

"What the hell happened to the .38?"

"After that night you found him, Gary tossed it. He said he didn't want it in the house."

"Then we're getting you another one." He says.

The determined set of his jaw tells her that any arguing is doomed to failure. She kicks off her heels, sheds her skirt, and pulls on the only old pair of jeans that still fit and a long-sleeved t-shirt with _UK Wildcats _stenciled down the sleeve. She leaves the shirt untucked. Glancing in the mirror, she whips her hair back into a quick ponytail.

"Come on, quit stalling. Let's go." Raylan grabs her boots out of the closet with one hand and her arm with the other and practically drags her to the car.

They drive in steely silence, first to the sporting goods store where Raylan tells her to stay put, locks the doors, and takes the keys, leaving her to fume in the car like she's some kind of prisoner. He's out a few minutes later with three boxes he throws on the backseat and a handful of papers that he shoves at her.

"Fill these out. It'll take a week or two to get the concealed carry permit, but carry it anyway. I'd rather have you pay a fine than not have the gun and need it."

"You're scaring me, Raylan."

"Good." His gaze is straight ahead and his grip on the steering wheel is tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

Winona stares out the side window at the landscape streaking by. "The damn gun's not going to do me any good if you kill us all on the highway."

He lets up on the accelerator and one hand leaves the steering wheel to rest on her leg. "I'm sorry." He says quietly. "But I love you. That's my baby you're carrying. These guys don't mess around. Gary's dead, remember?"

"That'd be a little hard for me to forget." She says without looking at him.

"If you're too stubborn to go somewhere safer, then I'm gonna do all I can to make sure you're_ both_ safe _here _and if that means scaring you into taking this seriously, well, then, that's what I'm gonna do. That and make damn sure you can shoot if you need to."

She turns back to face him. "I can shoot. You know that."

"When was the last time you went to the range?"

"I don't remember." She admits.

"Like I said." Raylan takes the turn-off. "You're gonna practice."


	26. Trio III

Chapter 26

Jimbo pulls into his garage and pushes the remote to shut the door. For a brief moment, he contemplates just sitting there and leaving the car run. They say death by carbon monoxide is peaceful and right now, peace is a rare commodity for him. Then he thinks about Jenna or even Marge discovering him and turns off the ignition. He's seen enough dead bodies, from many means and in all states, to ever want his daughter or even his ex-wife to find him like that.

Sighing, he heaves himself out of the car and into the house. Hopefully, by now, Marshal Givens will have shepherded his pregnant ex-wife someplace safe. Jimbo gives himself a pat on the back for thinking of the roses. It was a perfect idea. Not threatening on first glance, so they wouldn't frighten the woman; but put them all together and Givens would know exactly what they meant.

People have no idea how easy it is to get to the place they work, their cars, or even into their homes. Courthouse security was a joke ninety percent of the time and Mrs. Hawkins' office hadn't even been locked. The trickiest thing about the car was not being seen, but crouching down between her car and the SUV parked beside it, he'd managed. As to the house, he imagines Givens is more cautious than most, and yet, there were no alarms and the dead bolt on the backdoor was no match for his tension wrench and pick. That means Duffy could have gotten to her just as easily.

Jimbo has no particular fondness for Winona Hawkins. In fact, he finds her a bit shrill and he wonders about a woman who seems to hop from one man to another so easily. But he was raised to respect women, and his career as a cop began with a desire to protect people, but especially women, from those who would do them harm. The fact that she's pregnant only makes it more imperative. Givens has made plenty of enemies. Whatever happens to him is the result of his pissing off the wrong people, but an innocent child should not have to suffer for the sins of the father. Well, the ex-wife and the baby she's carrying should be safe now. All Jimbo has to figure out is how to get Givens and make it look legitimate.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Fifty-rounds, Cooper!" Winona complains over the phone. "A whole damn box. By the end my eyes could barely focus and my arm is killing me. And he insists we're going again tomorrow." She rubs her forearm and wrist with her thumb. Cooper's called to talk to Raylan but he's in the shower, so she's taken the opportunity to tell Coop about the roses and whine about the trip to the range.

"He's just trying to protect you." Coop says. "Maybe he's right. Maybe it would be a good idea for you to come over here for a few days. You're more than welcome."

"Thanks, but no." Winona says. "We're finally out of that damn motel room and I want to enjoy this place. It's a beautiful night and he won't even let me sit on the front porch for God's sake."

"Not alone." Raylan says from the bathroom doorway. The towel wrapped around his waist dips dangerously low. Ordinarily, she'd enjoy the view, but tonight she's just irritated.

"You're dripping all over the floor." Winona says. She knows it sounds bitchy, but right now she needs to be annoyed with him about something _besides_ the fact that he wants her to be safe since that's beginning to seem more than a little hypocritical when she thinks about it. "Dry off and put some clothes on. It's Cooper."

Ignoring her request, Raylan walks over and sits down on the couch beside her, snagging the phone from her hand.

"Hey, Coop. Did you get the e-mail I sent with that photo attached?"

"Yeah. I'm going to come over to Lexington and set up a meeting with the D.A. before the hearing; probably tomorrow. He needs to see this. This could blow the charges against you out of the water."

"You sayin' they could drop 'em altogether?" He raises an eyebrow at Winona.

"That's what I'm sayin', yeah. You got an investigating officer with a gambling problem conferring with a known organized crime figure who had dealings with the victim. The evidence against you is circumstantial at best, and they can't explain that fingerprint on the duct tape. I think we just might be able to make this all go away."

Raylan hangs up and repeats what Cooper told him.

"Really?" Winona says. "This might all be over tomorrow?"

"The charges could be dropped. This thing with Duffy, well, that's not going away. In fact, my being cleared might make things worse. Duffy's decided he wants me gone one way or another and he won't care who else gets hurt in the process." A shadow crosses his face, and he gets the resolute look in his eyes that she knows so well.

Her stomach does a flip. "Raylan, tell me you aren't thinking about going after this guy."

He eases up off the couch. "I'm gonna get some clothes on and we can sit on the porch and talk. How's that?"

"Raylan." She follows him into the bedroom. "You are, aren't you?"

He pulls on boxers and grabs a pair of jeans out of the closet. His silence is all the answer she needs.

"Please don't do this."

"Winona, this isn't Harlan." He runs a hand through his damp hair and sinks onto the bed. He reaches for her hand, and she sits, reluctantly, curling one leg under her. "I'm not going to go after this guy alone. Karen Esposito wants him, Art knows about this. Hell, Tim's the reason we've got the picture to begin with. For now, this is my job." He locks his fingers through hers. "This guy killed Gary. Don't you want him punished?"

"Of course I do!" She says, although considering everything, Gary pretty much got what he deserved. Still, the man she once loved was more than the sum of the bad choices he made the last few months of his life. "But why can't the Lexington Police handle this? Why do the Marshals have to be involved?"

"Why do **_I_** have to be involved? That's what you're asking." Raylan sighs. "Because I am. Because this is what I do. And because this guy is threatening you and me and our life together."

In more ways than one, she thinks. But she says, "Okay. I get it. I do."

"Do you?" He looks down at their linked hands.

"Yes. I don't like it. It makes me crazy worried. But I know you well enough to know you're gonna do what you're gonna do and I can't stop you." She squeezes his hand hard. "Can you at least promise me you won't go after him alone?"

Raylan leans in and kisses her forehead. "I promise."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Karen Esposito carries the plates into the kitchen. She rinses them off and puts them in the dishwasher, clears off the counter, and puts the milk back in the refrigerator.

"Sam, you can wipe the table off." She says. "And I need to check your homework."

" 'kay, Mom. Just a minute."

"Now, Sam, then you can play your game."

He starts to complain, but she gives him a look and he heads to the kitchen. Her cell phone buzzes as she follows him.

"Esposito." Karen says. She's surprised to hear Givens on the other end, at this time of the evening, but once he tells her why he's called she asks him to hold on for a moment.

"Sam, I've got to take this. Finish your homework upstairs and I'll be up in a few minutes."

"Okay," She tells the Marshal once Sam is gone. "Tell me what's going on."

She listens as he recounts the day's events. "Who do you think left the roses?" She asks when he finishes.

"I thought it was Duffy at first." Givens says. "But that doesn't make as much sense as your boss. Duffy wouldn't have the easy access to the courthouse that he has."

"True." Karen nods. She's pacing in the kitchen, as she often does when she talks on the phone. The repetitive movement always helps her relax and think. "Obviously he's warning you."

"Yeah, but why?"

"I can't explain it." She admits. "I just get the feeling that he's having second thoughts about all of this. I mean everyone, except for sociopaths, has some kind of moral code, right? Carroll's not a good guy, but he isn't a sociopath. Maybe Duffy is pushing him too far. You're sure she won't go to Louisville until this is settled?"

"She won't." He sighs. "Cooper is coming tomorrow to talk to the D.A. I'm going to ask him to stay for a few days. That way she won't be alone. Either he, I or both of us will be around."

"I'll see if I can put a patrol on the house. They can do a drive by a couple of times a shift, make sure everything's okay."

"I appreciate that."

"Glad to do it." Karen says. "I think it may be time to talk to Jimbo, show him what we've got."

"Your call."

"I'll sleep on it, give you a head's up tomorrow."

"Good. Talk to you then."

The call disconnects and Karen heads upstairs. After checking homework and chatting with Sam about school, she showers, lays out her clothes for the next morning and curls up on the couch with the file she's been compiling on Duffy and Carroll. She makes a few notes about what Givens told her and pulls out the photo again, looking at her boss. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" She mutters. "And what's your next move?"


	27. Winona V

Chapter 27

"Show me again." Raylan says, coming up behind Winona at the sink and pinning her arms. "What do you do now?"

"Seriously Raylan?" She says. "How many times do I have to show you? We've been through this like, five times." He woke her at the crack of dawn and they've been to the range and back already at this ungodly hour of the morning. Now, while she's trying to get ready for work, he's insisting on taking her back through any self-defense moves she recalls from some long ago training at Glynco.

"Someone grabs me from behind, the first thing I'm gonna do is scream." She tells him.

"What if you can't scream?" Keeping her pinned tightly against him, he covers her mouth with his hand. "Show me." He says. "One more time."

"Alright. But I am _done _after this." She declares. "I can't be late to work." She leans into him for a moment, giving the impression that she's not fighting back. Then she raises her foot and brings it down heavily on his instep. When he jerks back, surprised, she twists around in his grip and brings her knee up, hard. The breath goes out of him in a whoosh and he gapes at her for a moment before sinking to the floor.

"Shit." He gasps.

"Oh God!" She squeaks. "Raylan! I'm so sorry!" She kneels beside him and reaches out.

"Don't. Touch. Me." He groans, eyes closed.

Maybe it's the tension of the last few days, or the lack of sleep. Maybe it's the ridiculous sight of him grabbing himself on the bathroom floor, but the laughter bubbles up before she can stop it. Horrified, she covers her mouth with one hand, but the giggles simply refuse to be contained.

"Not funny." He croaks.

She can't answer. She feels more than slightly ashamed of herself, but the more she tries to stop, the more uncontrollable the laughter becomes. She's doubled over now, too, gasping for air, completely succumbed to her hilarity. She sits hard on the floor and wipes at the tears with a hand-towel she pulls from the rack. When she finally opens her eyes, he's staring at her, incredulous.

"I really am sorry." She says. But a last giggle escapes, making her sound less than sincere.

"I hope you weren't planning on more children." He deadpans, shifting to his hands and knees. His breathing is still shallow, and his face has a greenish tinge, but he manages to get to a sitting position. "I think we're done. You've got that particular move down."

"I'll be fine." She assures him. "I've got the gun in my purse. I've got mace; two cans of it. I'll keep on the look out for anything unusual. I'm in court most of the day, anyway and the bailiff is well armed. I think you can relax about this a little bit."

"I'm still driving you to work." He insists. "As soon as I can stand up." He stretches his legs out in front of him and winces. "I'll pick you up, too. Wait in your office. Cooper's coming in to talk to the D.A. this afternoon and I asked him to stay for a few days. That way at least one of us will be here with you."

"Raylan, I can take care of myself. I'm not one of those goofy horror-movie girls who's going to go checking out the noise in the basement in my underwear armed with nothing but a hairbrush, I promise." She scoots over closer to him and kisses his cheek. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I guess I just got carried away."

"Well, I hope you're never close enough to Duffy to have to do that, but at least we know if you are you can put him out of commission long enough to get away."

"Get away?" Winona scoffs. "I think I'd be tempted to just take out the gun and shoot him while he's down."

"That's my girl." Raylan says.


	28. Raylan IX

Chapter 28

"Listen up boys and girls." Art says. He has a sheaf of stapled papers in his hand and begins handing them out. "Our esteemed Department of Homeland Security has declared that Thursday night is the tri-state emergency drill for Ohio, Kentucky and West Virginia. ALL …I repeat, **_ALL_** local, state, and federal agencies; as well as fire, safety, emergency personnel and hospitals in those three states _will_ be participating."

"What the hell?" Tim says. "_This_ Thursday? That's all the notice we get?"

"It's an emergency drill." Rachel says. "I imagine they want us to be 'surprised'."

"Not only that;" Art goes on. "But we won't be made aware of the type of 'emergency' we're dealing with until zero-hour. It could be a bomb. It could be a biological weapon, or environmental warfare, just about anything terrorists can come up with."

"Maybe it's the zombie apocalypse." Tim suggests, straight-faced.

"So in other words, we're all working Thursday night playing make-believe on a huge scale?" Raylan says.

"Pretty much." Art nods. "Your individual assignments are on these papers. Raylan, you're with Tim and you guys will hook up with LPD and the State Troopers out by I-75. Rachel, you'll come with me out toward Louisville. The FBI folks will meet us there."

"Is this an all night thing, Art?" Raylan asks. He doesn't like this one bit. The timing could not possibly be worse. How the hell is he supposed to make sure Winona's safe if he's out all night on some government fool's idea of preparing for something you really can't prepare for anyway?

"It's federal, Raylan, whaddya think?" Art rolls his eyes. "One night away from Winona ain't gonna kill you."

Tim snorts from his desk, and Rachel lowers her eyes and bites her lip.

"It's not like that." Raylan says. "We've had some threats." It's still early in the day, but he loosens his tie and leans back in the chair, unexpectedly exhausted. Maybe heading to the range at dawn wasn't such a good idea after all. He stifles a yawn.

"Threats?" Art says. "From who? And why am I just finding out about this?"

"Just happened yesterday." He fills them in on the roses and his suspicions as to who was behind it.

"Under these circumstances I'm going to pretend you didn't just tell me Winona is carrying a concealed weapon without a permit in the _courthouse_." Art sighs.

"I appreciate that."

"So you think Carroll is trying to warn you that Duffy's going to come after Winona?" Tim asks.

"That's what Karen Esposito seems to think." Raylan nods and stirs more sugar into his coffee. Maybe the combination of that and the caffeine will get him through the rest of the day.

"Maybe she should go stay with Cooper over in Louisville." Art says.

"Believe me, I thought of that. She's being bull-headed about it. Hence the gun." He sighs and privately bemoans being in love with a woman every bit as stubborn as he is. "Karen said she'd put some LPD guys on drive by to check out the house every so often. Cooper's going to stay here for a few days, too."

"Well, then, he can cover things tomorrow night while you're working." Art says. "Problem solved."

"Can he shoot?" Tim asks.

"Says he can. I called him this morning to make sure he brought his gun. He has a brown belt in karate, too."

"No one would expect that from him." Rachel says, thoughtfully. "Never a bad thing to be underestimated."

"Maybe we should put in a security system at the house." Tim says. "I'll go in for half. Could be a good selling point if it ever comes to that."

"That's a good idea." Raylan agrees. "But don't those take a long time to get installed?"

"Not the simple ones, especially if you do it yourself." Tim stands and slips into his jacket. "Okay if we take our lunch hour at the hardware store, Chief?"

"Fine by me." Art says.

Tim finds what he's looking for in short order. "_Easy to Install_". He points to the words on the box. "Maybe even you could do it." He raises a skeptical eyebrow at Raylan. "But let's not take any chances. I'll come over and help."

"Great." Raylan says. "I suppose this means more pizza?"

"That'd be good. But maybe a little less beer this time."

"I hear ya." Raylan chuckles. "I hear ya."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The afternoon is dragging, and Raylan's finding it harder and harder to focus on the paperwork Art keeps shoveling onto his desk. When the glass door swings open, he looks up, eager for a distraction. He's surprised to see Trooper Tom Bergan striding purposefully towards him. He pushes away from the desk and stands.

"Hey, Tom."

"Raylan." He extends his hand and the two men shake. "Art and Tim around? Got some news you guys should hear and since I was in town thought I'd stop by and tell you in person."

"Sure." Raylan says. "Hey, Art!"

"What?" Art comes out of the conference room with a stack of folders. He sets them down on Raylan's desk and Raylan groans. "Have a nice afternoon." Art grins at his Marshal and turns to Bergan. "What can we do for you, Trooper?"

"Is Gutterson here? He should hear this, too."

"Tim went for some coffee and sandwiches. He should be right back. Want me to text him, have him bring you something?"

"That'd be great if it's not too much trouble."

"His trouble, not mine." Art grins and picks up his cell phone.

Tim arrives with the coffee and sandwiches from the deli down the street and the four men retreat to the conference room.

"Dickey Bennett." Tom says taking a sip of his coffee. "You all know he wasn't brought up on charges due to his mental state. He was pretty much catatonic when they had him in the jail down in Harlan. Didn't talk to anyone. Sat and stared straight ahead for days, even when his sister-in-law came to see him."

"I heard." Raylan says.

"They sent him down to Fairhaven in Brooking for evaluation."

"Heard that, too."

"Well, night before last he clothes-lined an orderly with a broom handle and walked away."

"Not catatonic anymore, I take it." Tim says.

"Seems not." Tom nods.

Art bites into his corned-beef-on-rye and chews thoughtfully. "Where you think he's headed? Back to Harlan?"

"That'd be the logical place." Tom agrees. "No sign of him yet, though."

"You think he might come after us, seeing as Tim shot Doyle and I was there when Mags died?" Not to mention Coover, Raylan thinks. Dickie would be more than pleased to get the chance to finish what he'd started.

"Thought crossed my mind." Tom admits.

"Dickie won't be comin' after anyone if Boyd Crowder sees him first." Raylan says. He pauses for a moment. "How is Ava, by the way?"

"You know about that?" Tom says.

"Ran into Boyd that day. He told me she'd been shot and who'd done it."

"My wife saw her at the Piggly Wiggly 'bout a week ago. Her arm's in a sling, but she's walkin' and talkin'."

"Good." He feels the twinge he always feels when Ava's name comes up. Part guilt and part a misplaced feeling of responsibility for where she is and who she's with now. He has to remind himself that Ava is a grown woman and whatever decisions she's made are hers, and hers alone. She's with Boyd. It isn't jealousy he feels, he remembers well enough that boot-to-the-gut feeling he got whenever he spied Winona with Gary and this is different. It's uneasiness. It's dread. It's a feeling that he's watching a movie he already knows the ending to, and it's not a happy one. It isn't what he wants for Ava, but he figures he's abdicated any right to an opinion on that a long time ago.

"Anyway." Tom says, wadding up his sandwich wrapper and making a perfect overhand toss into the trashcan on the other side of the conference room. "Thought you all ought to know, just to be safe. Keep your eyes open. No idea if he had friends in Lexington, but he's bound to show up somewhere."

"Bad penny and all that." Art agrees.

Raylan sighs. Great. One more thing to worry about. The good thing is, Dickie doesn't know Winona. There'd be no reason for him to focus on her. If he comes after anyone, he'll come after Raylan; and this time he won't catch him off guard. Just as Bergan reaches the door a thought occurs to him.

"Hey, Tom. What about Loretta McCready?" He says. "You think Dickie'd go after her?" All eyes turn to Raylan. "Well, he knows I was there lookin' for her. He knows she was in the house with Mags. He might blame her for the whole mess…go lookin' for her."

"Might be a way to lure you out, too. If that's what he wants." Art says. "Since you made it pretty obvious you care about the girl."

Tom looks from Raylan to Art and back. "Well, maybe I'll swing by and give the foster family a heads up."

"That might be a good idea." Raylan agrees. "You let me know?"

"Sure." Tom says. "You wanna come along?"

Raylan glances at Art, then at the stacks of paperwork on his desk. "I'd better not. Tell her I said 'Hey'."

"You got it."


	29. Winona VI

_A/N Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. Reviews are fuel to the fire, so here's a quick chapter. You'll have to wait awhile to find out what Dickie is up to, I'm afraid. This chapter is a little bit of fluff. Thanks again to Red Molly for some help with the 'list'. Be sure to let me know what you think. Maybe we'll put it to a vote. -)_

Chapter 29

"You asleep?" Winona murmurs. Exhausted from the early morning excursion to the shooting range, they'd gone to bed as soon as Tim left and fallen asleep almost immediately, but now, in the middle of the night, she's woken up, restless. She can tell he's awake, too. When he's asleep, he sprawls out, limbs loose, but the minute consciousness seeps in, there's a tense awareness that seems to control every cell in the man's body. She's always been tuned in to that, but it's worse now, for some reason, as if the baby is channeling its father's energy.

"Nah, I'm awake." Raylan responds. He rolls over to face her and puts his hand on her belly.

She smiles into the darkness and covers his hand with her own. "What do you think of Joshua?"

Raylan shrugs. "It's better than Cody."

She elbows him. "Your turn, then."

"Joseph?"

"He'd end up being Joey. Ugh." She makes a face.

'Yeah, you're probably right."

"Landon." She suggests.

"Really? I mean, no offense to Cooper but isn't that a little…." He shifts his hand back and forth in the air.

"Raylan!" She slaps his hand away and he laughs.

"Jacob." He says.

"Jake." Winona nods. "I like that. How about Ethan?"

"Or Wyatt."

She giggles. "Like Wyatt Earp? Isn't that a bit much? You being a marshal and all?"

"I like it." Raylan says, pulling her close. She lays her head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"Wyatt." She says again. "I guess I could get used to that. What if it's a girl?" Raylan is quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, there's a hitch in his voice.

"I was thinkin' Helen."

"Oh, Honey," Winona stretches up and kisses him. "I think that's absolutely perfect."

He sighs. "I wish you could have known her."

"Me, too."

"I'm sorry. That's my fault."

Winona thinks how wonderful, not to mention stress relieving, it would have been to have someone who knew Raylan to talk to, especially another woman. She wonders what kinds of conversations they could have had, and mourns what might have been.

"She would have loved this baby." Raylan says.

"I know." Winona takes a deep breath and steps onto shaky ground. "Are you going to tell Arlo?"

"Nope. Why would I? I don't want him anywhere near this kid." He says. "Have you told your father?"

"No. Not yet."

"Does he know about Gary?"

"Just that we were getting divorced. You can imagine what he had to say about my _second_ divorce. I haven't talked to him in a couple of weeks. I just don't have the energy for it." She sighs. "Without my mom, he's just a more intense version of himself the older he gets."

"Can't really imagine him being 'more' intense."

"I know. I know what he's going to say about us, and about this baby, and I just don't need that right now."

"You don't need that, ever."

"We're going to be dreadfully short on grandparents, you know."

"So what?" Raylan shrugs. "Cooper'll be around."

"And Art and Faylene."

"Not if we're at Glyncoe." Raylan reminds her.

"They could come visit."

"Maybe. What do you think of Wyatt Arthur?"

"I think he'd be thrilled."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She rolls over and pulls him in to spoon behind her. She starts to drift off, but Raylan won't lie still and his constant movements jog her awake again.

"Something's bothering you." She says, finally. "You might as well tell me about it since we're both awake."

"Tom Bergan stopped by the office today. You know, the state trooper from Harlan?"

"He came to see you when you were in the hospital." Winona remembers.

"Yeah. He wanted to tell us that Dickie Bennett walked away from the hospital down in Brookings where they sent him."

"Walked away?" She leans up on one elbow to look at him. "How does that happen? I mean, they know what he did, right?"

"He was catatonic when they took him down there, or playin' at it, anyway. He clocked an orderly the other night, and walked out the door. No idea where he is."

"You think he might come here?"

"If he's lookin' for me. Or, he might go after Loretta." Raylan sighs. "Tom was going to go give the foster family a head's up."

"Well, then, they'll be careful."

"I hope so."

"And we're already being careful." She lies back down and pulls the sheet up around her shoulders, snuggling against him. "There's nothing you can do in the middle of the night, Raylan. Get some sleep, or at least let me get some."


	30. Karen V

Chapter 30

"Hey Hank," Karen says, walking past her old desk in vice. "Got a minute? I'd like to run something by you."

"Sure."

She glances around. "Can we talk in your office?"

"Absolutely."

Once they're seated she pulls out the photo and slides it across the desk to Hank. "The guy you see in the mirror is Wynn Duffy."

"The one you had me look up." Hank nods. "What's he doing with Jim Carroll?"

"That's what I've been wondering." Karen says. "Duffy's Dixie Mafia and I know Jimbo likes to gamble. I'm wondering if he could be in over his head."

"I haven't heard anything like that, but it's possible." Hank leans his elbows on the desk. "Carroll went through a rough patch after his divorce. Had a bit of a drinking problem for awhile. He got that under control. Stopped altogether for a few years. Seems to be able to handle it now. But…."

"Addicts sometimes find another outlet."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinkin'."

Karen fills him in on the Givens' case.

"So you're thinkin' about showing him the picture, letting him know you've got a link between he and this Duffy guy?"

"I might." Karen nods. "Wanted to get your opinion on that."

"My question is…will it help you get Duffy?" Hank says. "He's the ultimate problem, right?"

"Yes, we believe he's the one pulling the strings."

"So, will confronting Jim accomplish what you want?"

Karen sighs. "Probably not."

"See how easy that was?" Hank grins.

"So what should we do?"

"Well, you either have to catch Duffy red-handed, so to speak, doing something to someone….or you have to have good, solid evidence that he's coercing Carroll or hiring others to do stuff for him."

"Maybe I should ask for cell-phone records."

"That would be a start." Hank nods. "Listen, I know a guy. Before you go through the usual channels that could give Carroll a head's up, let's have my guy check. If he finds something, then you can go ahead and get the official order."

"That'd be great." Karen says. "I appreciate it."

"I'll let you know."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dickie Bennett pulls the cap down lower over his face and crosses the street. It's a quiet neighborhood, condos and small ranch houses mostly. He takes the crumpled paper from his pocket and stares at his dead brother's scrawl. It hits him again. Doyle's gone. Coover's gone. Momma's gone. There's no one but him now. Dickie the Cripple: the last Bennett standing. No one would've believed it, but here he is, living proof. For how long, he doesn't care, as long as he takes Raylan Givens out before he goes. That's justice, and he craves justice. An eye for an eye. That's what his momma taught him. Why she spared Givens after he shot Coover; Dickie will never understand. 'Course, that was mostly Loretta's fault. He hasn't decided what to do about that girl. Momma's infatuation with having a 'daughter' wasn't really the girl's fault. Maybe he'll just let that go. As for Givens, he won't show the man any mercy. He doesn't deserve it.

Glancing at the address on the nearest house, he turns left and walks toward the corner, head down. He walks another two blocks before he sees it, and double checks the address to be sure. Dickie approaches the house from the back, rather than the street, knocks on the sliding door to the patio and waits. He has a job to do and vengeance to exact. Finding this house, and the man Doyle said would help if there were ever a need, is just the first step.


	31. Cooper

Chapter 31

Cooper sets two grocery bags on the counter and loosens his tie. "I thought I'd fix my mom's chili tonight. How's that sound?" He'd grabbed the recipe at the last minute on his way out the door this morning, unsure if he could remember it by heart anymore. With three kinds of sausage _and_ ground beef, it didn't translate well into Tony's strict vegan diet and it made way too much for Cooper to eat by himself.

"It'll be worth the heartburn I'll get from eating it." Winona says. "Cornbread, too?"

"Of course." Coop nods. "Think can you handle that end?"

"I do know how to cook, Coop."

"Yeah, right." He snickers. "As I recall you burn microwave popcorn."

"Everyone burns microwave popcorn." She pouts.

She's sitting in a kitchen chair reading the newspaper, still in her work clothes. Her feet, complete with bright red toenails, are propped up on another chair. Her hair is down and the humidity makes it curl around her face. In the light from the window she looks years younger, just like the girl he grew up with, the only person he ever told his secrets to. If his biological wiring had been different, he would have married her in a heartbeat. As it is, she's the closest thing to a sister he's ever had, and since his parents' deaths, his only family, outside of Tony, whose position as such seems precarious at the moment.

"What?" She says. "You're looking at me funny."

"Nah." Coop shakes his head. "That's just your overactive imagination."

She laughs at him. "Raylan's going to try to stop home before they have to head out for this stupid drill. Either that or call."

He knows this already, since he's talked to Raylan four different times today, and only once did they discuss his case. The rest of the conversations had been questions about Cooper's marksmanship and qualifications as Winona's protector for the evening. When was the last time he'd been to the range? What kind of gun did he have and did he remember to bring extra ammunition? Exactly what did a brown-belt entail? Then there were the instructions on the new home security system Raylan and Tim had installed the night before. The man was nothing if not thorough. Thorough, more than a little paranoid, and obviously worried.

Winona puts down the paper and yawns.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Coop suggests. "I'll get started on this, and if Raylan comes I promise I'll tell him to wake you up."

"I hate being tired all the time." She says. "So far, I'm not impressed with the whole pregnancy thing. Well, except for the baby at the end." She smiles. "I like the idea of that."

Cooper laughs. "Go take a nap."

"You're cooking for me. The least I can do is keep you company."

"I can use the time to unwind."

"Oh! How was the meeting with the D.A.? I can't believe I forgot to ask."

"Raylan didn't call?"

"Um, no. Well, he might have. My cell phone died. I forgot to charge it last night then we were rushed this morning and I didn't have time." She yawns again.

"With the pre-trial hearing tomorrow, the A.D.A. didn't think he'd have a chance to to talk to his boss. I think he's leaning towards dropping the charges, but we'll need to appear. If they drop 'em, it'll just happen in court."

"Well, Raylan'll get to wear that suit once, at least." She laughs, then yawns again.

Cooper takes both of her hands and pulls her to her feet. Turning her, he pushes toward the doorway. "Go sleep and let me cook." He says. "I'll wake you up in, say, an hour if Raylan doesn't show before that."

"Okay." She turns and kisses him on the cheek. "Thanks for being here, Coop."

"Don't mention it."


	32. Winona VII

Chapter 32

Winona wanders into the bedroom and falls onto the bed without even bothering to undress. She's asleep almost instantly and doesn't wake until she feels the mattress bend under Raylan's weight as he sits to give her a kiss.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." She stretches sleepily. "You just get here?"

"Yeah. Coop ran to the store. He forgot onions."

"Can't make Mrs. Atherton's chili without onions. Lots and lots of onions." Winona says, remembering.

"Scoot over." He says. She scoots, and he lies down beside her, kicking his boots off.

"When do you have to leave?"

"In a bit."

"When Cooper gets back, you mean." She turns on her side to look at him. "I really _can_ be alone for a few minutes."

"But you don't have to be." He says. He brushes the hair back from her face and kisses her. "Are you still tired?" One hand slides up under her blouse, rough and cool against her skin, making her shiver.

"Don't start something you can't finish." She smiles into the kiss.

"I can be quick if you can." He grins at her and kicks the bedroom door closed with his foot.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Raylan's left for the emergency drill and Cooper is chopping onions in the kitchen, throwing piles of them into a huge cast iron skillet she didn't even realize they had. Maybe she should watch and learn something, she thinks. But while the chili still sounds wonderful, the smell of the onions is making her half sick.

"I think I'll take a shower." She says.

"Go ahead." Coop doesn't look up. "It's gonna be awhile."

She takes her time in the shower, examining her body under the steady stream of water. Sometimes the baby doesn't seem real, but already she notices changes. Her breasts don't _look_ bigger, to her, anyway, but they _feel _heavier, and her stomach is definitely not as flat. She shaves her legs and takes the time to use conditioner in her hair. She's rinsing it out when she hears a crash from the kitchen. She sticks her head out of the curtain. "Cooper? You okay?"

No answer, but she hears another clang, like a can hitting the tiled kitchen floor and bouncing. Then a muffled "Shit."

She smiles. Coop must've made a mess. She steps out of the shower and dries her hair with a towel, running her fingers through to untangle it. Raylan's shirt is hanging on the doorknob, and because it smells like him, she puts it on instead of her robe and pads out to the kitchen in bare feet. The tableau that greets her takes a moment to register: Something red is splattered all over the kitchen floor and Cooper sags against the far wall, legs splayed out in front of him, clutching his side. She feels a scream bubbling to the surface, but Coop's gaze shifts to the left and she sees that they aren't alone.

The man's back is to her. He's short and stocky, with spiky dark hair and heavily muscled arms, but it's the knife, hanging by his side, slick with blood, that catches her eye and makes her heart skip a beat. That, and her purse, with the gun still in it, sitting where she put it, out of reach on the counter behind Cooper. Shit, she thinks, Raylan's gonna be _pissed_. Then she smells the onions burning. She lets the sleeve of Raylan's shirt slide down to cover her hand and inches toward the stove, keeping her eye on the stranger. Just as she grasps the handle of the pan, the man turns. Menacing, he raises the knife and takes a step toward her.

The skillet is heavy, and hot enough that it burns her hand even through the shirtsleeve. She almost drops it and something pops in her wrist, but somehow she manages to fling the contents towards the attacker. He jumps back, but not before half of the sizzling onions hit him square in the face. Shrieking, he drops the knife and goes to his knees, clawing at his face with his hands. Without even thinking about it, Winona lifts the pan again with both hands and brings it down on his head. There's a sickening _thunk_ and the man collapses to the floor.

She drops the pan and rushes to Cooper. "Oh, god! You're hurt! How bad is it?"

"Just a scratch." He grunts and lifts his hand from his side. There's a long slit in his shirt and blood is seeping through the cloth. "Hurts like a bitch, though."

"But…where did all that blood come from?" Winona points behind her at the red splatter on the floor.

"That's tomato sauce, sweetie. I dropped the can when he came in and surprised me." Coop says. "We must've forgot to reset the alarm when Raylan left." He looks at her with admiration. "You took him _down_."

Winona's shaking now, and she drops to the floor beside him. "We should call 911 before he wakes up."

"He's not waking up anytime soon, and when he does, he's going to be in too much pain to do anything. Those are second or third degree burns. He's got blisters already."

Winona leans over and peeks at the stranger's face. "Oh!" She leaps to her feet and makes it to the sink just in time, retching even though her stomach is mostly empty. After, she runs the water, splashes her face and takes a drink from her cupped hands. Her hand stings from the hot pan, and she holds it under the cold water for a moment longer.

Coop inches his way up, using the wall for support. "This might be worse than I thought." He admits, sliding back down to the floor. "Maybe you'd better make that call now." He's pale and shaky, and the bloodstain on his shirt is spreading rapidly. His eyes flutter closed.

"Cooper!" Hands shaking, she fumbles with the phone and dials 911. She can't remember the address in her panic, and has to go out to the front porch to read the numbers off the house for the operator. That accomplished runs back to the kitchen pushing the number for Raylan's cell. It goes straight to voicemail. "Shit." She says. "They must've had to turn their phones off for the drill."

Cooper opens his eyes. "Maybe once the cops get here, they'll know how to reach him." He says. His voice is low, and she can tell he's fading fast.

"Don't you pass out on me, again Cooper!" She sits on the floor next to him. "You stay with me, okay?" She takes his hand and squeezes it. "Stay with me." She says over and over. It seems like hours before she hears the sirens and heavy boots stomping up onto the porch.


	33. Raylan X

Chapter 33

Raylan paces at the edge of the rest stop parking lot. The lot is filled with emergency vehicles; three police cars, two fire engines, an ambulance, and even an evac helicopter. There's a makeshift tent set up and hospital personnel are on hand to treat the 'wounded'. The scenario is that as part of a coordinated terrorist plot, multiple semi-trucks have blown up blocking the highways in and out of Cleveland, Columbus, and Cincinnati, Ohio; Lexington and Louisville, Kentucky; and Charleston, West Virginia, along with other cities scattered across the midwest. There are hundreds of casualties from the explosion and the resulting multi-car pile-ups. Four major highways, I-70, I-71, I-75, and I-77 are effectively shut down, and a second assault is expected, so all authorities are 'on call'. Electronic systems are down, so they are working with walkie talkies and radios. All cell-phones are to be turned off. He'd put his on vibrate, but Art had asked to see it before he left to meet Rachel.

"What? You don't trust me?" Raylan asks.

"Nope. And looks like I have good reason." Art pushed the button to turn it off and shoved it into the glove compartment. "Leave it there." He pats Raylan's shoulder. "Cooper's with her. She's fine."

He doesn't like feeling disconnected. He's had a bad feeling for the past hour and no way of checking it out. He doesn't think of himself as dependant on technology, but without the cell he feels helpless.

"This is bullshit." Tim says, walking up behind him. He's clutching a walkie talkie, which crackles and beeps until he turns the volume down. "Piece of crap. We had better in Afghanistan, and that's sayin' somethin'" He shoves it into his pocket. "Couldn't we get as much done sitting around a table talking through this thing? How does having a few doctors in a tent over there playing _General Hospital_ with fake patients make this any more effective?"

"No idea." Raylan agrees.

"Well, only a few more hours." Tim says. "At least they aren't going to keep us out here the whole damn night."

Art told them things were due to break up at midnight, and everyone was to be in the office at 9 a.m. sharp for the review. Supposedly Homeland Security assessors are secretly present everywhere noting how each team responds to whatever is thrown at them. Each unit will be given a grade based on performance and then ranked. What these grades and rankings will be used for is not apparent. Probably not even to Homeland Security, Raylan thinks.

It's all a huge waste of time.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen Esposito's radio crackles to life as she turns off the highway into the rest stop parking lot. The babysitter was late tonight of all nights, so now she's late to the drill, and more than a bit concerned that she hasn't been able to raise Carroll on the radio to let him know. Hopefully, this is him, now.

"Esposito." She says.

"Detective? This is Wes Conner from Central."

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Are you at the I-75 emergency drill site?"

"Just pulling in."

"Is there a Deputy Marshal Givens there?"

"I'm not sure. I'm just getting here, but I know him. Why?"

"There's been an incident at his house."

Karen's heart pounds and she holds her breath. "What kind of incident?"

"Home invasion, looks like. Guy got a pan full of hot grease in the face for his trouble. The lady is fine, but a…." the radio crackles off and back on as the patrolman checks his notes. "….Cooper Atherton suffered a stab wound. They took him to Lexington Mercy. It doesn't appear to be life-threatening."

"That's good. I'll tell Givens if he's here."

"Thanks. The lady went to Mercy in the ambulance with Atherton. The perp got life-flighted over to the burn unit in Louisville. He's in pretty bad shape. He got hit in the head, too. Might be a concussion.

"Any i.d. on the guy?"

"Wouldn't know. Even if someone'd seen him before, they wouldn't recognize him now."

"Tall or short?" Karen can't quite imagine Jimbo being desperate enough to do something like this, but where the hell is he?

"Short…shorter than me, and I'm six foot."

So, it's not Carroll. "I'll make sure Givens gets the information, Connors, thanks."

"Over and out."


	34. Jimbo IV

Chapter 34

Jimbo stares across the table at the man shoveling food into his face. There's barely an inch between the plate and his mouth and the fork is moving fast. He's already downed two helpings of the leftovers Jim threw in the microwave, and he bets Dickie will be asking for a third any minute.

There's no way he ever would have taken this weasel for Doyle Bennett's brother. He looks nothing like him, aside from coloring, and has none of Doyle's somewhat menacing affability. This man is crazy. He's probably a psychopath. Whether that's because of the events of the last few months, or whether he was always that way, Jimbo has no idea. He never knew Dolye's family. His friendship with the sheriff had grown out of a law enforcement seminar they attended together. Talking through the bullshit, they discovered a shared love of sports, UK sports especially. When he found Doyle to be a rabid fan impressed by his connections, he'd taken him to several football games and their outside relationship developed from there. Doyle didn't talk much about his brothers.

"Thanks for the meal." Dickie says. "I was mighty hungry."

"You want more?"

"No, no, I'm good." Dickie pushes back from the table and smacks his belly with both hands. "I'm stuffed."

"Listen," Jimbo says. "I gotta go. I got this thing I need to get to. You're more than welcome to stay, take a shower." Please take a shower, he thinks. The man smells.

"I appreciate that, I do." Dickie says. "Think I'll take you up on it."

"Fine. I'll see if I can find you some clothes. You can't walk around like that." Dickie is wearing the scrubs from the hospital, turned inside out to hide the institution's name in large block print on the shirt and the jacket fomr the guard he jumped. "How'd you get here, anyway?"

"Truckers." Dickie said. "Nice people, mostly. Told 'em my momma died and I had to get home for the funeral."

"I was sorry to hear about what happened."

"Yeah, well." Dickie stares straight ahead for a moment then slaps the top of the table hard with both hands, making Jimbo flinch. "Ha! Surprised you there. Nah. Listen, I'm gonna take care of things. I had Givens once…strung him up like a gutted deer. If it hadn't been for Boyd Crowder;" He says the name like it's a curse. "I woulda finished things then. I'm gonna get him. You wait. Make him wish he'd never heard the name Bennett. Make him wish he'd never been _born_."

"Okay, Dickie. I'll get some things for you and be back later tonight. Don't need to tell you not to answer the door or the phone, right?"

"I'm not stupid."

Jimbo nods, but he isn't so sure about that, and yet…he may be able to use the man to his advantage.


	35. Gutterson

Chapter 35

"Can't you drive any faster?" Raylan asks.

"Without breaking the sound barrier, no." Gutterson answers. He flashes his lights against the darkness and pulls into the passing lane past another semi.

"I coulda driven myself."

Tim snorts. "Yeah, you wrapped around a guard rail on I-75 is gonna do Winona and Cooper a world of good."

Tim watches Raylan out of the corner of his eye. He's clenching and unclenching his fist and his other hand is tapping nervously on the window with that damn ring. "She's fine. You talked to her, right?"

"Yeah." Raylan says. "She says she's okay."

"And Cooper's gonna be okay, too?"

"He's in surgery." Raylan smacks his hand on the dashboard. "Dammit. How the hell did this happen? How'd the guy even get in?"

"Security systems only work if you turn them on." He states the obvious. "But it sounds like Winona handled things."

"She shouldn't have had to."

It's all he can do not to roll his eyes. "God, Raylan, give the woman some credit. She's obviously not helpless."

"Gimmee your phone." Raylan says. He reaches across the console to grab it, but Tim snags it first.

"Why do ya need _my_ phone?"

"Callin' Karen Esposito to see if they have a name on the guy yet."

"Use your own phone."

"Winona might call."

Guterson starts to make a smart remark but then looks at Raylan's face and hands the phone over.

After a brief conversation with Detective Esposito, Raylan shakes his head. "No i.d. on him and he's still unconscious. Probably will be for a while, if he's lucky. Second and third degree burns on his face. He might lose an eye."

"Shit. That'd be too bad." He says. His sarcasm is not wasted on Raylan who manages a smirk.

The other marshal sighs. "She did all right, didn't she?"

"Yep. She's a resourceful woman. Who would've thought to use a pan full of onions as a weapon?"

Raylan gives a low chuckle. "My Aunt Helen." He says. "I coulda seen her doin' somethin' like that." He turns quiet.

"Saw a woman in Afghanistan use a bucket of goat shit as a weapon once." Gutterson says to bring Raylan back around. It takes a moment, but finally he responds.

"Goat shit? No kiddin'?"

Tim nods. "Very effective."

"I imagine it would be."

Tim takes the exit and the lights of Lexington Mercy glow just ahead.

Raylan is out of the car before it stops moving, half-walking, half-jogging to the Emergency entrance. By the time Tim parks the car and makes his way in, the other marshal has already disappeared into the bowels of the hospital. Tim finds him eventually in the surgical waiting room. He pauses in the doorway.

Raylan's back is to him and he's holding onto Winona like she's a life preserver and he's a drowning man. He wonders if that's not far from the truth. Tim's never had anyone he wanted or needed to hold like that. It's been a source of pride, but at the moment, it just makes him feel lonely. He watches as Raylan kisses the top of her head and leads her the couch. They sit, talking in quiet voices, and she leans against him.

Tim walks over but it's odd standing, looking down at them, so he pulls one of the square-backed chairs over and sits down across from them. "How's Cooper?" He asks.

Winona's response is to bite her lip and look away.

"Still in surgery." Raylan murmurs. "He's gonna be fine." He says more to Winona than to Gutterson.

"I didn't realize onions could be a deadly weapon." Tim says. "Good for you."

Winona turns back and gives him a weak smile. "Neither did I." She says.

"It was quick thinking and it kept him from hurting you, too." Raylan says.

She cocks her head at him. "Is that an admission that I_ can_ take care of myself?"

Tim gives her a wink.

"You did alright." Raylan admits.

Shoes squeak on the floor and they all look up. "Your friend is out of surgery and doing well. We're moving him to a room in a few minutes." The nurse says. "You'll be able to see him there. The doctor will be right in."

Winona lets out her breath in a sigh of relief.

Raylan strokes her back. "I told you he'd be okay."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tim's left and they've only been in Cooper's room for a few minutes when the surgeon walks in. "I'm Dr. Bradford." She says. "I repaired the bowel where the knife nicked it and put in some internal stitches in the abdominal wall which will dissolve as he heals." She glances at the chart and makes a note. "We'll be watching for internal bleeding and infection. He's on high-dose antibiotics and he'll need to stay on them for at least a week, maybe two."

"Thank you." Winona says.

Raylan's cell phone vibrates in his pocket and he glances at the screen. "Be right back." He tells Winona, slipping out the door into the hall.

"Hey, Karen, anything new?" He says as he answers.

"We're at the house. Had a couple of guys scour the block for any vehicles that looked out of place. I think we've found his truck. It's registered to a construction company out of Frankfort."

"Baxter-Hawley Construction."

"How'd you know that?"

"Previous experience." Raylan says. "No need to run it. The construction company is owned by Wynn Duffy's sister."

"Well, that's interesting."

"But not all that surprising. We knew Duffy was going to make a move. What's up with Carroll?"

"That's just it. I don't know. He never showed up at the drill and hasn't answered any of my calls. I'm going to head over to his house, see if he's there." She says. "I'll get back to you."

"Alright." He's about to hang up when she speaks again.

"Almost forgot, how's your lawyer friend?"

"Cooper? Out of surgery. He'll be fine."

"Good. I'll let you know if I find anything out about Jimbo."

"Thanks."


	36. Trio IV

Chapter 36

Raylan is quiet on the drive home from the hospital. One souvenir she carries from their marriage is the feeling that his silence is always covering up anger or disappointment. Even though logic tells her now that he's just tired or worried or trying to figure things out, the pent up adrenaline from earlier makes her jittery and she can't stop herself from quizzing him.

"Are you upset?"

"Well, I'm not _happy_." He says, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Everything turned out okay." She reminds him. "Cooper's going to be fine."

His hands tense on the wheel, and he glances in the rear-view mirror. "Look, someone came into our home and tried to hurt you or grab you. Who knows what hell he was going to do? Yes, it worked out. Yes, you were smart and resourceful and I'm glad, but that guy…he's not the problem. He failed. Duffy isn't going to just give up. Do you get that?" He glances at her. "He won't stop until someone stops him."

"Oh, and that _someone _has to be you, right?" She snaps. "Is that where this is going? Are you gonna drop me off at home and go out and find this guy, Raylan?"

"I wouldn't even know where to look." He says.

She folds her arms, closing herself off from him. "But if you _did_ know where to find him…" She huffs out a breath. "What would you do? Shoot him?"

"I don't know." Raylan admits. "So it's probably a good thing I don't know where he is. And I'm not leaving you alone to go look for him."

"But you're gonna look for him tomorrow."

"Yeah, I am." He says. "Karen Esposito has a line on the guy you clocked. I thought I might tag along if she heads over to Louisville to see if he can talk yet."

"So you won't go off on your own looking for Duffy?"

"I told you I wouldn't." He says. "I promised you, remember?" He pulls into the drive and parks the car. "You have to trust me, Winona, or none of this is going to work."

He's right. She knows he's right. Still, she knows _him_, too. And for all his good intentions, if he's faced with the choice of getting to this guy or waiting for back-up, she knows exactly what he'll do. But for now, she nods. "I do trust you." She says.

They walk in the house hand in hand and leave the mess in the kitchen for morning.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jim Carroll is checking out at the local Wal-Mart with a pile of clothing and other necessities for his houseguest, when his cell phone buzzes. It's Duffy, and for the first time in a long time, Jimbo's not afraid to answer.

"Hey." He says, cradling the phone under his chin as he fishes in his wallet for cash. "I think I've got our problem handled and the best part is, it's not going to come back on us at all."

"Go on."

He explains about Dickie Bennett and his vendetta against the Marshal. "So, all I have to do is point him in the right direction and bingo."

"Sounds a little too easy." Duffy remarks. "I'm suspicious of easy things. You sure this guy can get the job done?"

"Look, I may need to encourage him that the expediency of shooting Givens will get the job done just as well as a long drawn out beating, but other than that, I think he's good for it." Jimbo goes on. "I figure I get him a bead on the Marshal, then follow him and take him out when he's finished. It'll look like I just got there too late."

"That would tie up all the lose ends." Duffy agrees. "Alright. Last chance, Jimbo. I gave Givens a warning tonight, by the way. The idiot I sent screwed up and I didn't get the bargaining chip I wanted, but..."

The hairs on the back of Carroll's neck stand up. "What are you talking about? What did you do?"

"You'll hear about it, I'm sure." Duffy says. "LPD was all over the place. Just remember, there's more where that came from if your little plan goes awry. The ex-wife may be off limits to you, but she's not to me."

The call is disconnected and Jimbo stares at his cell. Heart pounding, he dials dispatch and asks about any disturbances in the neighborhood where Givens lives.

"There was a home invasion, one victim, male, taken to the hospital with a stab wound, not life-threatening. Perp is in bad shape too. Got burned somehow."

He thanks the dispatcher and checks his messages. Karen Esposito has called several times. He'd bet good money she has more details on what exactly happened, but he's not anxious to talk to her seeing as how he skipped out on the emergency drill. He'll deal with that later. At least from what the dispatcher says he knows the ex-wife wasn't the one hurt. Not Givens, either, Duffy would have bragged on that. Jim is curious enough about what happened to reconsider returning Esposito's call, but decides to wait until he gets back home and talks Dickie Bennett into his plan. He's more than ready for this to be over.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen Esposito parks her car and glances around the quiet neighborhood. No sign of anything out of place. Most cars are stowed away in garages and the houses are dark save for the occaisional security light. No lights on in Carroll's house, either, at least in the front. She walks around the perimeter of the house and spots a light on and a shadow in what must be the bedroom. It looks too small and slight to be Carroll, but light and shadow can be distorting. She ducks down and watches for a few more minutes, but the figure doesn't reappear.

Returning to the front, she climbs the steps and rings the doorbell. No one answers. She knocks, even though she knows the bell is working; still, no answer. She knows there's someone in there. She considers the possibilities. Maybe Jimbo has a girlfriend. That isn't all that far-fetched. He's attractive enough, if you go for the over-sized, brawny, weather-beaten type, and she knows many women who do. Still, missing the emergency drill is out of character and gives her pause. Of course, he might have cleared it with the Chief; there's no way for her to know that.

She stands on the porch for a few more minutes, indecisive, then, sighing, she heads back to her car. Either Jim is home and busy; simply ignoring the doorbell and not answering his messages, or he's gone, no telling where. He'll show up tomorrow. Or not. What if his involvement with Duffy finally caught up with him? She considers calling for back-up and going in, but she really doesn't have cause. And besides, the thought of interrupting some romantic interlude of Jimbo's is just too embarrassing.

Glancing at her cell she determines it's too late to call Givens. She'll save that for tomorrow.


	37. Raylan XI

Chapter 37

There are three messages waiting for Raylan when he walks in late to the mandatory review of the previous night's drill. Art gives him a look, but slides a cup of coffee across the table. Raylan pretends to listen to the Homeland Security agent's assessment while he drinks the coffee and glances at the message slips:

_No sign of him at the house. Not at work yet this a.m. K. Esposito_

He'll return that one later.

_A.D.A. Frank Beale. Please call back at your earliest convenience._

Shit. The hearing is supposed to be today. Raylan wonders if the D.A.'s office has heard about Cooper. He holds up the message slip and motions to the phone. Art waves his hand, excusing him. He stuffs the last message slip in his pocket and picks up the phone.

"Mr. Beale, please." He tells the woman who answers. "Raylan Givens returning his call."

"Marshal Givens." The A.D.A. comes on the line. "I was terribly sorry to hear about the incident at your house. Mr. Atherton is alright, I hope?"

"Yes, he'll be fine. But he won't be making any court appearances any time soon."

"No worries. I've already cancelled the hearing. I spoke to my boss last night. We're dropping all charges. I was just calling to let you know."

Raylan is surprised by the intensity of the relief he feels. He'd been expecting this result since he saw the picture of Jim Carroll with Duffy, but hearing it from the prosecutor brings a welcome finality to the whole mess.

"Now, you know, this isn't the same as a not-guilty verdict." Beale interjects. "If new evidence comes up, we can refile, but I don't see that happening. Seems to me there were other forces at work here. Sorry you got caught up in it."

"I'm just glad it's over."

"We may want to talk to you about the evidence Mr. Atherton shared. You and…" He pauses. "Marshal Gutterson?"

"Sure, just let us know."

"I will do that. You have a good day now."

"Well, this is a start."

Beale laughs. "I'm sure."

Raylan goes back and sits through another forty minutes of interminable blather from the HS agent. The Marshal's office has scored a respectable eight on a scale of ten; one point above the Lexington Police Department and a half point below the local FBI office.

"The FBI gets a better rating than us? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me." Tim complains when the agent leaves. "The FBI had one agent on site and he walked around the perimeter for an hour and a half yelling at people through a megaphone."

"Evidently Homeland Security calls that 'controlling the situation'." Art says.

Tim rolls his eyes. "That's bullshit."

"So, how long have you worked for the federal government?" Rachel smiles.

Art snorts a laugh.

Raylan observes all this with a smirk. He wants to tell them he's been cleared, but there's someone he needs to tell first. "Hey, Art." He says. "I'm gonna run downstairs for a minute. Be right back."

Instead of waiting for the elevator, he takes the stairs, two at a time. His timing is perfect, for once. Winona is just walking toward her office when he comes out of the stairwell.

"Hey." She says, smiling.

He pushes open the office door and grabs her hand. Pulling her close he lifts her off her feet. "Put me down!" She laughs. "Raylan, what's going on?"

"It's over." He says. "I just talked to the A.D.A. They're dropping all the charges."

"Oh!" She squeals. "Oh, Honey. It's really over?"

"Yep." He grins. "Let's head over to the hospital after work and tell Cooper. Then we can go to dinner….wherever you want…to celebrate." He figures he can forget about Wynn Duffy for one night.

She leans in and kisses him. "Sounds like a plan."

As he heads back upstairs, he remembers the third message and feels for the paper in his pocket. There's no name on the slip, just a cell phone number. He pulls out his phone and punches it in.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Raylan eyes the few patrons hugging the bar at noon on a Friday. It isn't hard to spot the man he's here to meet. He takes off his hat and lays it on the barstool.

"Boyd."

"Raylan."

"What's this about?" Raylan raises two fingers to the bartender. "Whiskey?" The man nods and pulls two glasses down off the shelf.

"Had to make a run into Lexington to settle some business. Arlo heard I was passing through asked if I would be of service to him by making a delivery. I was happy to oblige."

"He did, huh?" Raylan says. "What could Arlo possibly want you to give to me?"

"I'm only the messenger." Boyd says, handing him a package. "I did not question your father about the contents."

Raylan weighs it in his hands. "It don't feel like a snake."

Boyd barks a laugh. "There's a Bible verse for that, but I'll spare you."

"I appreciate that."

The bartender sets the glasses in front of them and Boyd raises his. "I hear that congratulations are in order. Another Givens. God does move in mysterious ways."

Raylan stares over his glass at Boyd. He wonders how he's heard, then decides he'd rather not know. "Thanks. I think."

Boyd cocks his head. "You're so untrusting, Raylan, so suspicious of everyone's motivations. I surely hope you do not pass that quality on to your offspring."

"Among other things." Raylan says, clinking his glass against Boyd's.

"May the sins of the fathers not be visited upon the children." Boyd says in answer.

"Amen." Raylan says.

Boyd raises a hand to the bartender and two more glasses appear.

They sit and sip. Raylan takes a moment to look again at the package. His name is scrawled on the front in Arlo's choppy handwriting. What the hell would Arlo be sending him? He slits the envelope open with a key as Boyd pretends not to watch, and tips it so the contents fall into his hand. Two rings. One has a red stone, flanked on either side by two diamonds. The other ring is a plain gold band. He starts to crumble the envelope, then realizes there's something else. He pulls out the slip of paper. Again, he reads Arlo's barely legible scrawl.

_These were Helen's. Figured she'd want you to have them._

That's all. No signature. No good wishes or congratulations. Raylan pockets the rings and chases down the lump in his throat with the whiskey.

Boyd finishes his drink and rises from the barstool. "I'd best be goin'. Awfully good to see you, Raylan, and I thank you for the drink."

Raylan drains the last of the whiskey from his glass. "Dickie Bennett's out." He says. He's not completely comfortable with his motivations in sharing this with Boyd, but he does it anyway.

Boyd turns, his eyes fixed on him as if Raylan has just uttered a blasphemy or bestowed on him a gift of unquestionable worth.

"How?"

"He clotheslined an orderly and walked out of Fairhaven two, no, it'd be three days ago now."

"By what means did you come upon this information?"

"Tom Bergen came up from Harlan the other day to let us know. Thought Dickie might come here to settle things. With me, in particular."

"Any sign of him?"

Raylan shakes his head. "Not yet."

"He's mine. I want to deal with him myself." Boyd says. "You understand me, Raylan?"

"I believe I do."

"If his whereabouts are made known to you and circumstances allow, will you pass that information on to a friend?"

"I might." Raylan nods slowly. "I just might."

_A/N Many thanks to LaurieM and Rachel Wilder for their help with Boyd's voice here. I was terribly nervous writing him, and their counsel was invaluable. -)_


	38. Cooper and Raylan

Chapter 38

"I told you this woud never get to trial." Cooper croaks. His throat is sore from the anesthesia and he barely has enough energy to keep his eyes open, but he's glad for the good news and the company.

"Thanks for everything." Raylan says. "And, I am paying you, by the way. None of this pro-bono shit."

"Alright." Cooper says. "I'll let ya. Family rate, though, and be glad of it. I'm expensive." He winks.

"But worth it." Winona says. She leans in and kisses his cheek. "I am so sorry this happened to you."

"Hey, at least it brought things to a head with Tony."

"He was here?" Winona asks. "I called him right away but he never called back. He doesn't like me much, does he?" She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and chews her lip.

Cooper considers his words then decides there's only one way to put it so he spits it out. "Tony's jealous."

"Jealous? Of me?"

"Of our relationship." Cooper nods. "He thinks I've put you, well, this case and both of you, really, before him and _our_ relationship. Even though it's temporary, he's pissed." He shakes his head. "He does this all the time. If it wasn't you, it would be another case, or another friend, or my playing golf on Sunday."

"Golf? You play golf? Really?" Raylan asks, eyebrow raised.

Cooper laughs. "Not well. It was just an example. I don't play a lot of golf, but the judges do and in my profession, sometimes that's where things get done." He sighs. "Tony is high maintenance. He needs a lot of attention; takes up a lot of energy. I just don't know if I'm up to it any more. Maybe it's time to admit that and move on."

The room is quiet. "Well, now I've put a damper on things." Cooper says. "I'm fine. You all go have your celebration and let me get some rest." He glares at them in mock anger. "You heard me now, go on."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Winona's choice for dinner is a tiny Italian place tucked away on a side street not far from the hospital. They sit at an outside table and enjoy the food and the cool quiet evening. They hold hands on the way to the car and they're happy as they head home. He's happy despite the threat Duffy still poses. He's as happy as he's been in…well, as long as he can remember.

Winona insists on driving, thanks to the two beers he had with dinner and the whiskey he had after. Because of that, and because he's thinking about what he wants to do with her once they get inside, he's distracted when he gets out of the car.

"Raylan! Raylan Givens!"

He turns, hand on his gun, but can't see anyone. "Get back in the car." He hisses at Winona.

"You stay right there, woman. Don't you move that fine ass one more inch." A familiar skinny figure eases out of the shadows, rifle aimed at Winona. "You think you can draw and fire before I blow a hole in her?" Dickie asks him. "Sure, you might get me, but I'll get her. Better drop the gun."

His reflexes are dulled. Sober, he knows he'd have had him before he finished the first sentence. "Let her go." Raylan says.

Stupidly, Dickie fires a warning shot into the air and Winona instinctively flattens herself against the side of the car and slides to the ground. With her safely out of range, Raylan steps forward and gets a shot off, but it isn't his shot that drops Dickie where he stands, it's the blow the butt of another gun delivers to the back of his head.

"Your aim is off tonight, Raylan Givens." A slow voice drawls. "But that's of the good. I want him alive."

"Boyd?" Raylan squints into the darkness. "How in the hell…?"

"Forgive me if I didn't take you at your word about callin' me should you hear of this criminal's whereabouts." Boyd says. "I considered it and came to the conclusion that you might well turn him over to the authorites to salve your conscience."

"So you followed _me_?" Raylan says.

"I simply watched and waited for him to rise to the bait."

"Me being the bait, I take it."

"You yourself told me his temptation would be to come after you to finish what you started all those years ago, Raylan."

"How long were you gonna watch?"

"Long as it took. I got nothin' but time."

Winona comes up behind Raylan and peers over his shoulder. "Is he dead?" She asks.

"No, ma'am." Boyd says. "He ain't dead." He steps forward. "Now Raylan, aren't you going to properly introduce me to the once and presumably future Mrs. Givens?"

"Boyd, this is Winona; Winona, Boyd." Raylan says. "That proper enough for you?"

Winona stays behind him.

"Mighty pleased to meet you, Winona."

Raylan feels her tense and her fingers dig into his shoulder. "It's nice to meet you, too." Her tone, however, says something more ambiguous.

Raylan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell.

"Who you callin', Raylan?" Boyd asks.

"Boyd, you know I can't let you take him." Raylan shakes his head. "It'll have to be enough to know that he's going away for a long long time."

"You think that's fair payment for Helen's life?" Boyd spits the words. "For shooting Ava? You'd feel different if…"

"Don't, Boyd." Raylan says. "You're right. I'd feel different. I mighta shot him myself if you hadn't clocked him. But it woulda been self-defense. You takin' him now…that's vengeance."

"'_Life being what it is, one dreams of revenge'." _Boyd says. "Don't you dream of revenge, Raylan?"

"Not anymore."


	39. Trio V

Chapter 39

Jim Carroll eases himself onto one knee and watches the scene unfold from his hiding place across the street. He has no idea who the strange man with the odd spiky hair is, or how he missed that someone else was following the marshal. He came out of nowhere. Now Dickie's finished and Jimbo's chance to placate Duffy is finished with him. Shit. There's only one thing left to do.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen Esposito wakes with a start and grabs for her cell phone and glasses on the cluttered coffee table. She flicks the remote to turn off the television, fumbles the glasses onto her face, and glances at the number. It's Carroll.

"Jim?" She answers. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I need to see you."

"It's almost midnight."

"I know, but we need to talk."

"Is this about Duffy?" She asks.

"What do you think?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"So this Boyd….is he a friend?" Winona asks.

The cops and Art are gone, having collected Dickey and questioned Boyd, who went along with Raylan's story that he'd come to drop off a package from Arlo and happened to be in the right place at the right time. Not a total lie. Art didn't seem to buy it, but it satisfied the LPD officers.

Now they're on the couch, Winona's feet in his lap, while he pretends he's enthralled with SportsCenter. Raylan digs his thumb into the ball of her foot, keeping the pressure on as he runs it along the arch back and forth.

"Ummm." She murmurs. "That feels good. But you didn't answer my question."

"Sorry." He says. He switches to the other foot, and she uses the free one to nudge him in a place sure to get his attention.

"I asked if Boyd was your friend. You've never really talked about him."

Raylan shrugs. "We dug coal together before Helen gave me the money to get out."

She studies his face. It's more complicated than that, she can tell. But he's not going to give her anything else. She can tell that, too. "So did you think about just letting Boyd take Dickie Bennett back to Harlan and deal with him the way he wanted to?"

"I suppose I thought about it." Raylan admits. "He killed Helen. He shot Ava. He would've…."

She sees where this is going and interrupts. "He didn't." She says. "And you would have gotten him if Boyd hadn't shown up."

"I should've gotten him before that."

"You were distracted."

"Can't afford to be distracted right now. Duffy's still out there."

"Is he the last person who wants to kill us?"

"You, probably…me, well, probably not." He grins at her.

"Not funny, Raylan." She says, her mouth a hard line. "Really, not funny."

"Hey," He grasps her ankles and pulls her toward him on the couch until she's practically on his lap. "We're going to Glynco, remember?"

"I remember." She sighs and lays her head on his shoulder. "I just wish we were already there.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Karen holds the door open and leads Jim Carroll into the living room. "Coffee?" She asks.

"Might be a good idea."

"I'm going to give Marshal Givens a call, if that's alright with you."

"Might as well." Jimbo sighs. "Hell, have him join us."

Karen stares at him for a moment, then picks up her phone.


	40. The Plan

Chapter 40

"It's not enough." The D.A. looks at Carroll and shakes his head. "I can make a case with what you've told me, but any good defense attorney…and Duffy will have a good one…will knock holes in it big enough to drive a bus through. They'll try to pin it all on you, and in front of a jury, I can't guarantee a guilty verdict."

Jim Carroll runs a hand over his close-cropped hair and scowls at Esposito and Givens. "Now what?"

Karen glances at Raylan and nods. Unwilling to leave Winona alone, Raylan had joined their meeting the night before by speakerphone. They'd come up with a plan to take to the D.A., and later, after Jimbo left, she and Givens had made a back-up plan in case that wasn't enough.

"What if he wears a wire?" Raylan says.

"Wait just a minute." Jimbo protests. "You never said anything about a wire."

Raylan leans forward. "Listen. I'll be with you. You just pretend you're takin' me to him like you promised, get him to talk, and then we take him down."

Jimbo shifts in his seat. "Why don't you wear the wire then?"

Karen jumps in. "You think they won't pat him down? They'd expect you to be carrying, so it's safer for you to wear the wire. We'd be right outside with a team ready to come in if things go south."

The D.A. leans back in his chair. "That would give us more to go on, that's for sure. Might even get a guilty plea out of it. Put Duffy away for a good long time." He looks at Carroll. "Here's the deal. You do this, help us get Duffy arrested and there'll be no charges. You testify and you can go into the wit sec program or not, as you see fit. The offer is there, right?"

Raylan nods. "Yep. We can take him into wit sec immediately."

Jimbo is quiet for several minutes. Finally he heaves himself to his feet and sighs. "Alright. I'll wear a wire. When do we do this? I want to get it the hell over with."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"No." Art says, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not about to give you free reign to put yourself in Wynn Duffy's sights. He's too unpredictable."

Raylan takes a step forward. "But Art this is a chance to…."

"Raylan!" Art raises his voice. "I said you're not doing this. This isn't Marshal business. Let Jimbo wear the wire and get Duffy to talk on his own. You don't need to be there."

"Dammitt. This_ is_ my business." Raylan glances down, takes a deep breath and meets his boss's gaze. "This guy threatened me and Winona and almost killed Cooper. He _did _kill Gary and tried to frame me for it. I want to help bring him down."

"And you have. You've convinced Carroll to do this. Your job is done. Let the LPD do theirs."

"I convinced him to do this _with_ me." Raylan says. "What if he changes his mind when I back out? Then we lose this chance."

"No!" Art says, slamming his hand on the desk. "Final. And I'm not messing around. You go behind my back and do this and I'll see to it you don't go to Glynco or anywhere else. You're done."

Raylan stares at him for a moment. "Fine." He stomps out of Art's office, grabs his hat off the desk, and storms past Tim and out the door.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tim finds Raylan pacing angrily in front of the elevators.

"I've got an idea."

Raylan turns, red-faced and huffs out a breath. "What?"

"Look, Jimbo's got no real reason to trust Duffy, right? No way of knowing Duffy's going to keep his promise of leaving Winona out of it. So what if he let's Duffy _know _he's taping their conversation? For insurance."

"But if I'm not there…"

"We set up a webcam…show you tied up somewhere or somethin' so Duffy can see Jimbo has you. Put a clock in the frame, he knows it's real time."

Raylan cocks his head and looks at the other marshal. "I'm listening."

"Once Jimbo gets Duffy to admit complicity in Gary's death or the attack on Cooper, we go in."

"Duffy's pretty shrewd." Raylan paces a bit more. "Not sure he'll go for it."

"Nothing's ever a hundred percent." Tim shrugs.

"It's worth running by Esposito, Carroll, and the D.A." Raylan agrees. He pulls out his cell phone.

"And Art." Tim suggests. "Let's run it by Art."


	41. Jimbo V

Chapter 41

Karen Esposito adjusts the head-set and takes a sip of coffee. She watches as Gutterson places the wires carefully on Carroll's chest and covers them with tape. Jim buttons his shirt and shrugs into his jacket.

"Walk outside and say something so we can check." Tim says.

Carroll slips out of the van and walks to his car. "I don't have a good feeling about this." He mutters.

"Got it." Karen nods.

"Tell me again why I'm wearin' a wire _and_ using the recorder?"

"Because the wire let's _us_ monitor you." She reminds him. "The recorder is just for show."

Karen peers over his shoulder as Tim adjusts the monitor. The screen shows Raylan, gagged, hands and feet bound, curled on the floor. There's a copy of today's newspaper beside him. Tim turns around and sees the same scene in the back of the van. "Hope you're comfy." He smirks. Raylan's muffled reply is unintelligible.

"I think you might be having a little too much fun with this." Karen says.

"You haven't known him as long as I have or you'd be enjoyin' it too."

"Can we get this show on the road?" Carroll complains.

"Have you got the video on your phone?"

"Yes. It's right here."

"All right." Karen says. "It's a go. Call Duffy."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Duffy's latest goon opens the door to the trailer wide and Jimbo steps inside.

Duffy leans forward and peers around him, as if Carroll might be hiding something behind his back. His eyebrows go up. "Where's our friend the marshal?"

"I don't trust you." Carroll says. "You say you'll leave the lady alone if I deliver Givens, but after that stunt you pulled the other night I want some insurance."

"Ah." Duffy nods. "Insurance. What, a signed affidavit?" He chuckles.

The hairs on Jimbo's neck stand up and he feels the sweat begin trickling down his back. "No." He shakes his head and hopes his nervousness doesn't show. "First of all, I want you to know I'm good on my word." He pulls up the video feed and passes the phone to Duffy. "There's Givens all tied up and ready for delivery."

"Well." Duffy gives what passes for a smile. "I see. Where is he?"

"I'll take you to him when we're done here."

"Done with what, exactly?"

"You're going to tell me how you did Hawkins." He pulls out the recorder. "Then, I'm going to put this some place safe. As long as Given's ex goes unharmed, it stays just between us. Something suspicious happens to her or _me _and, well…." Carroll shrugs.

Duffy laughs. "I don't think so."

"OK, then." He says. "I'll let Givens go and turn myself in. I'll tell them what I know and we'll see how that goes for you."

"What you _know_?" Duffy sneers. "You don't _know_ anything. It'd be your word against mine, and I have better lawyers. You've got nothing."

"I have a photograph proving that you and I know each other."

"That's still nothing." Duffy says. "You'd really turn yourself in to protect some two-timing broad? You're more stupid than I thought."

"I have principals."

"I don't." Duffy says. "This is how it's going to be." A wave of his hand and Jimbo finds himself pinned to the wall by a thick forearm across his neck. Duffy leans in. "You're going to take Cliff here to get Marshal Givens and bring him back here to me. You have…" Duffy glances at his watch. "Thirty minutes. If you aren't back another associate of mine is going to be paying a visit to a certain University of Kentucky sophomore." Duffy waves a picture in front of Carroll's face.

"You can't….you wouldn't…." Jimbo stammers.

"Bet me." Duffy sneers. He snaps his fingers and Cliff releases his hold on Jimbo's neck. "Go."


	42. Gutterson II

The atmosphere inside the van is tense.

"We go in. Now." Karen says. "We don't have what we wanted but we've got him on kidnapping and extortion. It's something. Jimbo's likely to fall apart any minute. He obviously can't bring Clint to you and I'm not confident about him thinking on his feet at this point."

Raylan sighs. "What are the chances Duffy gets off with a slap on the wrist?"

"Depends." Tim says. "Maybe this along with Carroll's testimony will be enough to put him away for awhile or force a deal."

"We don't have a choice." Esposito meets Raylan's gaze. "Sorry Marshal, my call. We're going in."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tim readies his gear and turns the cap on backwards. Time to go to work. His vest is already on, and Karen and Raylan are slipping jackets on over theirs.

"Carroll and that guy are headed for his car." Tim says.

The three of them move down the alley towards where Jimbo is parked, hugging the fence line and crouching low.

A battered blue pick-up comes slowly down the street in the opposite direction, the driver leaning forward and looking from side to side as if searching for an address. As it closes in on the parking lot where Duffy's trailer sits, Tim watches three men rise up from the bed of the truck, swinging automatic weapons onto their shoulders.

"Guns!" He yells. "Get down!" He fires off a shot and one man falls, toppling over the far side of the truck onto the street with a sickening thud. The other men open fire littering the parking lot and trailer with bullets. Carroll and Duffy's thug fall, but Tim can't tell if they're hit or just going down to duck and cover.

"What the hell?" Karen kneels next to Raylan behind the fence. "Who are these guys?"

"No idea." Raylan gets a shot off into the truck, grazing the driver who jerks the wheel. The truck careens wildly and the men in the back fire staccato bursts into the air as they struggle to keep their balance.

"Someone cover me." Karen says. "I'm going to try to check on Carroll and Duffy's guy." The two men lie unmoving on the black top near the RV.

"I'll watch her." Raylan says to Gutterson. "You stop that truck."

Tim holds his rifle steady on the truck and takes another shot. A second gunman falls, inside the truck bed this time. The last man pounds on the back window of the cab, and the driver manages to straighten the wheels and hit the accelerator. Tim aims and shoots out the front tire and the truck lurches over the curb and comes to a stop.

He approaches, gun raised. "Out of the truck and on the ground." He says. The man in the back of the truck obeys immediately and Tim cuffs him. "Stay." He commands.

The truck door opens. "Show me your hands."

The driver raises his arms skyward, blood trickling from the bullet wound. "Don't shoot! I got nothin'!"

On the ground!" Tim repeats. He's cuffing the driver when the back-up Esposito called for arrives along with an ambulance.

The Lexington blue and whites surround the trailer, while the paramedics get busy with Jimbo.

Raylan walks toward Tim, shaking his head. "Carroll caught one in the chest. It looks pretty bad. Duffy's goon is dead."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Tim tosses his hat on the grass and sits down, brushing the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead away with his sleeve. Raylan unsnaps the vest and eases out of it. He flops down beside Tim and watches the medics load Jim Carroll into the back of the wagon.

Duffy appears in the doorway flanked by two uniforms, hands cuffed behind his back. His beady-eyed gaze finds them and he spits on the ground.

"We have the tape, at least." Karen says, sinking down on the curb beside them. "Not sure what the D.A. will be able to make of it, but he ought to go away for a little while at least." She sighs. "Sorry, Givens."

"Not your fault."

"Where you think those guys came from?" Tim asks.

"Frankfort. Arnett would be my best guess." Raylan says. "Maybe Duffy over-stepped. Arnett likes things clean. If he thought it was going to get messy..."

"He'd put out a hit on his own guy?" Tim asks. He continues, answering his own question. "Sure he would."

"The man doesn't wear pants in his office." Raylan says. "I think he'd do just about anything."

Karen uses Gutterson's shoulder to push herself to her feet. "I'm going to head to the hospital. I had the uniforms notify Jim's ex-wife and daughter. Someone ought to be there to meet them."

"Let us know." Raylan says.

"It doesn't look good." She hangs her head. "I know he made his choices, but I feel responsible."

"You aren't." Raylan reminds her. "The wire was our idea. If Art had let me do it the way I wanted..."

"Yeah, sure _that _would be better. It could be you in the ambulance, Dumbass." Tim says.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

'You guys alright?" Art leans back on his desk and looks at his two marshals. Tim is sitting slumped in the chair, elbows on his knees. "I _fuckin_' hate _goddamn_ funerals." He mutters.

Raylan leans in the doorway and loosens his tie. "I know what you mean. Don't want to do that again for a long time."

"Good to hear a bit about the man, though." Art says. "Sounds like he was a good cop once upon a time."

"He did the right thing at the end." Raylan nods.

"And look where it got him." Tim snorts.

"At least Duffy's gone for awhile." Art says.

"Minimum security and he'll be out in less than two-years." Tim snorts.

Raylan sighs. "It's something, anyway. Carroll didn't die for nothin'."

Art opens the drawer and pulls out a bottle and three glasses. He pours and the three men drink a silent toast.

"Thanks, Art." Tim says. "I'm gonna head out, that's okay."

"Sure. Take it easy. See you tomorrow." Tim leaves and Art holds up the bottle, a question in his eyes. Raylan nods and Art pours again.

"He gonna be okay?" Art asks.

"He'll be fine." Raylan says. "He gets this way sometimes."

"You'll let me know I need to be worried?"

"You don't." Raylan tips back his drink. "Got somthin' to ask ya. Feel free to say 'no' if you want."

Raylan makes his query and a slow smile spreads across Art's face. "That'd be fine." He says. "I'd be happy to."


	43. Epilogue

Epilogue

It's a beautiful fall evening. The sun is just sinking into the west and the sky is tinged with reds and purples and blues. The leaves of the huge White Oak in Art and Faylene's backyard have just begun to turn, lending a golden glow to the small patio.

The short ceremony is over, and the participants are milling about with the few guests.

Judge Reardon, already well on his way to intoxication, throws an arm around Winona and slaps Raylan on the back so hard the drink in his hand sloshes over.

"Always knew you two weren't done with each other. Could see it in your eyes, both of ya." He belches. " 'Scuse me." He gulps another mouthful of his drink. "It was my pleasure to do the honors. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Judge." Winona says, deftly extricating herself from his embrace. She gives Raylan a quick kiss. "I'm going to see where Cooper got off to."

Reardon chuckles. "Have to say, it's the first time I had a guy as 'maid of honor'."

"Yeah, well, he's her best friend."

"Seems like he's been a pretty good friend to you, too."

"Well, he did pick out this suit."

The judge laughs. "It's a nice one." He looks at his empty glass. "Think I'll get another drink. You want one?"

"No, I'm good, thanks."

"Hey." Karen Esposito beckons to him from the patio. "We're going to take off. Sam has school tomorrow."

"Seems like he's found a friend." Raylan motions to where Sam is crouched next to Gutterson on the grass. The other Marshal is motioning with his hands in a wide circle as Sam watches, wide-eyed.

He brings his hands together with a shout. "Boom!" Sam jumps.

"Really? It blew up just like that?"

"Yup."

"_Cool_!"

"Come on, Sam."

"Aww, Mooommm."

"Now, Sam." She rolls her eyes at Raylan. "See what you have to look forward to?"

"Yeah," He smiles. "I do. Thanks for comin'." He leans in and kisses her cheek.

"Raylan."

"Hey, Art." Raylan says. "Thanks for this." He gestures at the patio with its candles and simple decorations.

"Don't thank me. Thank Faylene. No way she was going to let you two get hitched in Reardon's chambers."

"Yeah, well, this is a lot nicer. We really appreciate it." He clears his throat. "Thanks for standing up with me, too. Means a lot after all the shit..."

"You're welcome." Art interrupts. "None of that today." He clinks his glass against Raylan's.

"Alright." Raylan chuckles.

Winona appears and slips her arm through his and he sneaks a look at Helen's ring on her finger. "Coop wants to say something. Evidently, this guy here..." She smiles at Art. "...turned his toasting duties over to the 'eloquent lawyer'."

Art shrugs and laughs. "I mighta said something like that."

Cooper clears his throat and the small group gives their attention. "I'm not in a courtroom so I'm going to keep this brief and to the point."

"A lawyer being brief? This I gotta see." Reardon calls out. Everyone laughs.

Cooper raises his glass. "Long life, true love, and more happiness than your hearts can hold."

Everyone applauds. Art elbows Raylan. "Kiss your wife."

Winona smiles up at him and he leans in and kisses her.

"Now he listens to me." Art quips.

Laughter echoes in the Kentucky night.

_~fin~_


	44. Author's Note

_I want to make a huge thank-you to all of the people who have been reading this story and commenting. Especially RedMolly who has has been a wonderful support and resource from the beginning and Laurie M, without whom Boyd would have sounded...well...less Boyd-like._

_ Just like some other Justifed fanfic writers, I have a playlist that for me, expresses the feeling of the show, and I used these songs a lot while I was writing. Some are from the show (FX has songs listed by episode) and some are my own choices. Where noted, they came from friends. Thanks, all! J_

Love Has Something Else to Say – Tedeschi Trucks Band

Cleaning My Gun-Mark Knopfler

You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome- Bob Dylan

Have a Little Faith in Me-Delbert McClinton

Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone)-Chris Tomlin

Annabelle-Gillian Welch (_Reckoning_; played at Helen's funeral)

It Should Rain-Gene Casey (Hatless)

Heathen's Kiss- Horse Feathers (Moonshine War)

Beat the Devil's Tattoo (_thanks, Laurie M._)

Bound For Glory- Tedeschi Trucks Band

Louisana- Todd Thibaud (_thanks to RedMolly for this_)

Whipping Post- Allman Brothers

A Storm is Gonna Come- Piers Faccini

You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive-Brad Paisley (_Bulletville and Bloody Harlan_)

Life by the Drop- Stevie Ray Vaughn (_this is a Boyd/Raylan song ;-)_ )

Dimming of the Day- Alison Kraus and Union Station

The Weight- The Band

Angel From Montgomery- Bonnie Raitt w/John Prine

Fierce Love-Lisa Hayes*

The Promised Land- Bruce Springsteen

Lullaby- Dixie Chicks

Haunted- Tom Heyman *

Black Cloud- Mr. Rudy Day*

*from the show, but I'm not sure what episode

I took LaurieM's lead and most of these are downloadable here with the usual prefixes:

megaupload(dot)com/?d=MW2Z5LNQ


End file.
